


Blinded: Part One

by segadora



Series: Blinded [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Betrayal, Eventual Female Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age), F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hope vs. Despair, Lavellan/Solas Angst (Dragon Age), Lost Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Solas (Dragon Age), Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Rebuilding, Saving the World, The Fade, The Veil (Dragon Age), Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2020-09-07 19:27:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 34,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20314771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/segadora/pseuds/segadora
Summary: After the events of the Exalted Council, Nara Lavellan and what remains of the Inquisition work to counter Fen'Harel and his mission to tear down the Veil. She finds herself coming face-to-face with Fen'Harel and his forces, which forces them both to come to terms with their place in the world and their resolve to protect what they love.





	1. Chapter 1

“Varric needs help!”

Nara shouted across the battlefield when she saw her dwarven friend get overtaken by a group of elf mages. Doing her best to deal with the group enclosing on her, she pulled electric force from the fade-enchanted prosthetic left arm that Dagna had fashioned her and, jumping back and drawing another arrow, she launched a powerful attack that electrified two of the attackers. One of the remaining elves—a rogue—slashed her left cheek and she cried out as she felt her own warm blood dripping down along her face. Twisting her neck, she dodged out of the way as she felt chilled magic brushing past her left shoulder. She knelt and released a long shot that took down a faraway attacker, then jumped again to release a storm of arrows on the last two crowding her. They staggered at her shot and she finished her assault with a few arrows, then wiped the blood from her face as she turned west toward the battlefield.

Breathing heavily, she flexed her prosthetic arm and chanced a glance back at Varric, who seemed to be smothered by elves, despite Cassandra and Dorian’s onslaught against them. Cassandra’s bright golden armor glinted in the retreating sun as she laid a powerful blow against a mage on her right, but she was blown back as two more soldiers took the fallen elf’s place. Sweeping the field, Nara's stomach dropped as she realized their forces were being pushed back on all fronts.

We can’t lose today_, _she thought. Not when they were so close.

She began firing at the overwhelming group near Varric as she strode toward them. One of her arrows found its home in the neck of an elf and a spurt of blood announced his fall, but another opponent quickly stepped in beside the fallen elf and took his place. She blinked through the misty haze in her eyes as her throat clenched.

If we can just keep pushing, maybe we still have a chance, she thought. Dorian released an attack of blinding terror, which seemed to catch a few of the elf mages off guard. They slowed, which gave Varric a chance to throw down some traps. Cassandra lunged. Slowly, they were able to get to Varric, who gave her a weak half-smile before dropping to his knees.

“Dorian—” Nara began.

“I know,” he retorted, cutting her off. “It’s a shame your apostate hobo isn’t fighting for us anymore. He was always better with the healing spells.” A look of concentration crossed his face as he cast a feeble healing spell over Varric. Nara also hastily forced an elfroot potion down his throat, after which he seemed to recover slightly.

“Tell me that was the last of them and we can have a celebratory round now,” Varric said with a grimace, although it didn’t quite reach his eyes. The group paused for a moment, searching the grounds. 

“We will need to call for a retreat,” whispered Cassandra darkly. “If we hope to continue our plans, we still need as great a force as we can manage.” Her eyes found Nara and Cassandra’s gaze intensified.

“We can still fight, after today. We can still win.”

“_Fenedhis_,” Nara whispered, pulling her hand across her eyes. “You’re right. Tell everyone to pull back. We will try to regroup.”

She tried to sound confident, but they had been trying to recover a powerful elven artifact—one that, no doubt, would give Solas the last bit of power he needed to tear down the Veil. It had been two years since she had met him in the Elven Ruins where he had finally revealed himself to her. Solas, her gentle, inquisitive, curious, advisor, had revealed himself to be Fen'Harel, the nightmare from the legends she had known and feared all her life. 

Since then he had retrieved his mark, along with her left arm, and vanished without a trace.

Pushing those thoughts away, she raced forward to cover their retreat.

_Cassandra is right,_ she thought, _we still have the runes. We may still have time._

She fired an arrow into the heart of an elf pursuing a group of her retreating soldiers and sensed an elven rogue behind her. He raised his dagger to strike, but she lifted her left arm—her prosthetic arm—and she almost smirked as the dagger collided with the powerful enchantment Dorian had set on it, which then blasted him back. For good measure, she sunk an arrow into his chest, then continued striding forward. Her fingers were raw and her heart pounded in her chest, but she pressed on, leaping back and forth between attacks and providing cover as the rest of their soldiers retreated.

It was then she noticed an elf—_no, elvhen,_ she corrected, who had been watching her closely at a distance. He was much taller than the elves they had been fighting and carried a certain air of authority and power with him. When she met his gaze, he turned and leapt forward, bounding away from her, toward a crumbling ruin.

_Curious_, she thought._ None of the others had fled from her, especially when her forces were clearly retreating. _She exhaled sharply and started to follow the path the elf had set, though he was much quicker than her. _Definitely elvhen,_ she thought, doing her best to keep up.

She finally approached the ruin. She had lost sight of him, but tried to keep her cover as she carefully crept forward through a crumbling ruin. She turned a corner and was struck by a powerful mind blast. A soft _oh_ escaped from her mouth as six or seven mages rushed toward her. She felt her muscles fail and she staggered. Shakily, she nocked an arrow and sent it flying blindly as a last attempt before she felt a force of magic freeze her to the spot.

“Na din’an sahlin!” he shouted in elven.

_Now you die. _

She watched helplessly, rooted to the spot, as he charged toward her with his spirit daggers drawn, her arrow protruding from his right shoulder. She felt cold as panic enveloped her. Panic was too familiar, almost similar to exhaustion, at this point.

Not now, she still prayed, not like this.

But what did it matter, something within her argued, if it did end like this? What did it matter if she died like a dog defending something she loved? There was something almost romantic, after all, dying for something you loved. A small part of her leaned into the pain, embracing the loss and hoping this much would mean the end of it. She was so tired of the loss, of the pain, the ache that followed her every waking moment. 

“She is to be taken _alive.” _

She was almost disappointed at the command.

They looked at her and she felt a whoosh of magic as darkness crept along the edges of her vision. She tried to draw an arrow, to move at all, but the effort did nothing but exhaust her further. The mages circled around her as the spell binding her broke and she fell, unconscious, to the floor.

She awoke, suddenly, grasping at nothing as her right hand clasped in the empty air around her. She reached with her left arm as well, but found that her prosthetic had been removed, along with her bow. Her back ached against the cool stone beneath her and she struggled to sit up, the effects of the magic inflicted on her still wearing off, as she took in her surroundings. It appeared she was in a part of the ruin that was still mostly intact. The walls were well worn with weeds pushing their way through the stone and there were a few tattered pelts and furnishings that held a layer of dust as if they hadn’t been touched in years. There were no windows, only a heavy door through an archway that lead into the round room she was in. With a pang, she realized it reminded her of the rotunda at Skyhold, although it lacked Solas’s murals and the ceiling was almost low enough for her to touch. Not quite a prison cell, but the one point of entry certainly assured she had few options.

Pushing that thought aside, she rose to her feet to assess her condition and consider her next move. Shakily, she strode to the wall and traced her fingers over it, making a circle along the wall as she tried to perceive any weak points in the stone or hidden exits. Finding nothing, she turned her search to the stone floor, hoping for a trace of a hidden compartment, a secret passageway, _anything_ that would lead her out of here. She crouched and scratched at the stone—fade-touched, she realized, and resigned herself to trying the door.

She crept forward, trying not to make any sound as she approached the only apparent escape from the room. She lifted her right hand to trace the heavy wood and, sucking in her breath, pulled away as frost covered her fingers and a cool, familiar magic washed over her. The door had been warded. _Solas, _she breathed, stepping back. Steeling herself, she used what was left of her strength to run forward and bash her right shoulder against the door, only to be blasted back by a wave of ice that sent a chill straight to her spine. _That ought to get his attention_, she thought, rubbing her side and stepping back into the circular room.

Finding a spot where she would be in full view of the door, she slid down against the wall to resume her position on the floor. _If he means to keep me prisoner, _her thoughts raced and her heart clenched, _then…_ what? She was unarmed and defenseless without her prosthetic against someone who possessed god-like abilities, let alone the command of an army that she had not yet been able to overcome. She fought against the waves of irritation and despair that threatened to overtake her as she considered her new role as Solas’s prisoner. She had assumed many roles in the past years—hunter, knife-ear, Herald, Inquisitor, _vhenan…_ she tried not to think of the implications of the latter as she heard muffled sounds outside the door.

“She has roused. Should we send for Fen’Harel?”

“No. He demanded she be taken alive but did not give further instructions. He knows she has been captured. We await further instruction.”

The other elf fell silent and she heard his footfalls retreating from her door.

_So, this was to be it, _Nara thought, with despair slowing the pulse in her veins. _I am to await the judgement of Fen’Harel._

She choked back a laugh at the irony.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nara contemplates and adjusts to her new role as Fen'Harel's prisoner.

Nara stayed awake as long as she could, fearing what she might encounter in the Fade. When she could not keep her eyes open any longer, she slept and dreamt of Varric, Cassandra, Leliana, Blackwall, and Cullen fighting against an onslaught of demons and falling—each as colorfully and horrifically as the darkest depths of her unconscious imagination could predict. The fade-imposed violence was not new to her, but the weight of their outcome stayed with her as she cried out in the early morning, pushing away the images of their mangled corpses as she regained consciousness.

The curved walls reappeared as she cracked her eyes open. Again, she longed for Skyhold and the rotunda that had once held answers to her questions. In Skyhold, she had often sought the rotunda to help explain the chaos around her or at least provide a temporary relief to the onslaught of her duties. She balked at her predictable need for self-assurance. _There will be no comforts here, _she reminded herself.

Glancing around, she realized that there was a tray of food—_warm food_—near the door, as well as a pile of linens, an opaque canister, and a singular red phial. She tried to ignore the pangs in her stomach as she first approached the canister, wondering how long it had been since her last meal. She retraced her steps and realized that she had awakened the previous morning and set her path immediately for battle. She hadn’t had any food or water for nearly thirty-six hours and her throat cracked as she contemplated the jug of water. _Surely, I must at least rehydrate_, she thought.

Carefully opening the canister, she swirled the contents and sniffed. She did not detect any poison—surely if they had meant to murder her, they would have done so on the battlefield. _She is to be taken alive, _she remembered one of her captors stating. She sighed and took a long swig.

Relief flooded through her as the water cleared the bitter taste in her mouth and she took several gulps before pulling the jug away. Scanning the room, she decided to hide the half-full canister in the drawer of an overturned desk in the room. It was not a great hiding spot, but she worried she would not be offered such comforts later. She then turned her attention to the pile of linens left by the door, carefully setting aside the red phial. Though she longed to bathe and change from the sweat and blood-stained armor she wore, the cotton garments laid out for her reminded her too much of the simple garments Solas had worn when he was pretending to be a humble apostate. They even smelled slightly of him—pine, elfroot, and earth. Her stomach twisted and she pushed the clothes away. Briefly glancing at the now cooling tray of food again, she focused her attention on the red phial.

Her injuries from the battle that had commenced had yet to heal—her hand crept to her left cheek to feel dried blood and an angry cut left from the rogue who had assailed her earlier. Her body still ached vehemently from the mind blast she had endured and she worried about internal bleeding. Uncorking the vial, she raised it to her nose. The overwhelming scent of elfroot and faint traces of prophet’s laurel were all she could detect. _If this is how I am to die, then let Fen’Harel take me,_ she thought, rolling her eyes, as she tossed the phial back and immediately felt the effects of the healing potion stitching her wounds and healing her aches.

Assuming that he’d meant to kill or subdue her, he would have succeeded already, she surmised. Nara tore into the still-warm food on the tray. There was ram meat and bread, which she devoured first, then, still hungry, she picked at one of the two frilly cakes. Unsure if she was feeling sick due to poison, how quickly she had consumed the food, or the reminder that the cakes were one of Solas’s favorites, she launched the other cake against the locked door and settled back against the wall and watched the door.

_Solas must have the artifact, _she thought to herself, then corrected herself—_Fen’Harel has the artifact._ There could be no uncertainty in her now. She wasn't even entirely sure what the artifact was, or what it could do, only that Leliana had caught word that Fen'Harel's armies were after it and anything they could do to slow or stop him was a win to them. Yet now, without Inquisition soldiers or his own weakness standing in his way, he could now tear down the Veil without hesitation. Despair settled in the pit of her stomach. What could she do? She had no power to match his; the retreat of her Inquisition and the foolishness of her capture had left her with no army, no leverage, and no options. The solitude of her sorrow threatened to overtake her as emotion bubbled in her throat and she choked back a sob.

_He may have the artifact, yes, but what will you do?_

The back of her mind pricked as a pressing voice within her bubbled with question.

_Will you wallow in despair at your perceived defeat or will you show him what he still might lose?_

The voice shook her, blurring the edges of her vision and deafening the emotions fighting for her attention. _What did he have to lose?_ She thought of her world, and the way he had explained it to her.

_“It was like walking through a world of Tranquil.”_

Solas had not seen value in this world, Nara’s world, that she had fought beside him to protect from Corypheus. In the Inquisition’s mission to restore the world, he had offered insight, shed blood, and sacrificed in their cause, but had these sacrifices only seemed necessary for his own machinations? To restore his power and regain his orb?

Nara swallowed the lump in her throat. He had deserted her after the orb had been destroyed. He had promised her answers after the defeat of Corypheus and, instead, he had disappeared. When he told her of his original plan to tear down the Veil at the Elven Ruins, something had clicked; he had seen her only as a way to restore his power, a means to an end. He had manipulated her to further his cause. Regardless of the physical toll it cost the Inquisition and the emotional turmoil he had put Nara through, when the orb was broken and there was no other benefit to pursue, he had left as abruptly as he came—no explanations, no warning, no emotion. The answers he had promised her were still questions that would never be resolved.

Nara remembered the steely demeanor he conducted himself with since Crestwood, where he had rendered her barefaced and hopeless.

“_Harden your heart to a cutting edge_.” His words coursed through her like poison.

How could she not? With the threat of Corypheus upon them, she had little time to wallow in his betrayal, so she pressed on, in pursuit of an explanation he knew he would never provide, one she clinged to desperately enough that she had no choice but to fulfill his plans—to defeat the archdemon and the self-proclaimed god in hopes of righting the world and banishing his power. And yet, Solas was unphased in Corypheus’s defeat. He only had expressed unabashed sorrow at the demise of the orb—_his orb—_that would have allowed him to destroy Nara’s world—her with it—and to bring the his people back, the elvhen, regardless of the casualties and chaos that would ensue.

And now?

She sighed and glared at the heavy door that barred her way. She was his prisoner and was at his mercy. She could not change his path nor his mind, let alone his heart. Anger replaced the hopeless feeling in her stomach and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to calm herself. She needed to remain focused, especially here. She felt a familiar dullness creep back over her as she slowly regained the steely demeanor she had learned in her time with the Inquisition.

She had been all frayed edges, bright emotions, and bubbling curiosity, before. Leliana had taught her how to stitch herself together, Josephine had shown her how to guard her emotions, and _he_ had quashed any remaining curiosity she held. She was no longer hungry for intellect; instead she used information as a tool. She had finally become the weapon the Inquisition needed her to be. Even now, with no defense against her own fate, she stored away facts that might provide insight to her forces. The color of the stone, the inherently elven structure of the ruin, the magic that warded the door.

_We have the runes,_ she thought as she slowly exhaled through her teeth, _we have a few artifacts. _

_We may stop him yet. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thank you so much to everyone who has read or left feedback! I never actually thought I would publish this, so your feedback makes my heart so full. Connect with me on tumblr if you'd like! I'm new to all of this so it's a new page, but I'm happy to engage with anyone who reaches out! https://segadoraa.tumblr.com/
> 
> Up next, Solas's POV and a very long chapter with lots of angst...


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas finally confronts Nara for the first time after revealing his plans as Fen'Harel to her and presents her with a choice.  
CW: Non-graphic attempted suicide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and a lot of the emotion behind the story I’ve written is completely inspired by buttsonthebeach! I’d absolutely recommend their Hamilton x Dragon Age series (even if you aren’t familiar with Hamilton). They have such a talent for capturing the personas of each character and delivering a plot that is engaging, heart-wrenching, and deeply satisfying. I’ve posted links for their works and tumblr below, please check them out!  
https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttsonthebeach/pseuds/buttsonthebeach  
https://buttsonthebeach.tumblr.com/

Solas paced through his room impatiently, hands clasped behind his back. The image of Nara’s unconscious body as a few of his agents brought her in—at his request—flashed through his mind and he gritted his teeth. He’d made sure she would be comfortable enough, providing sustenance and a healing potion to ensure her recovery, but the flash of magic he felt when his ward was triggered made his heart flutter in panic.

_What would he say? _After the day’s battle, he’d acquired the remaining power he needed to tear down the Veil. He overturned a small stone bearing a rune in the palm of his hand. Abelas had stumbled across the magic while searching for an artifact and had presented his finding to Solas. He had stared at Solas meaningfully as the weight of the discovery came crashing down upon him. The rune would act as a barrier against the Veil, guarding its carrier against the raw magic that would be exposed when the Veil was torn and, conveniently, protecting its carrier against its effects. Of course, there was still the concern of the demons that would come rushing through…

“But an accomplished warrior might yet survive,” Abelas had said, his expression unreadable. “Particularly if they were protected by a powerful mage.”

For the first time in over two years, Solas had felt the flutter of hope in his chest. He could never abandon his mission to tear down the Veil and restore the The People, but perhaps he could also save Nara. The thought was almost too good to be true. In the days after Abelas’s discovery, Solas had found himself imagining Nara in Elvhenan. He wondered what form her magic would take at first, and how she would thrive with the fade restored. He imagined training her to control her magic and showing her the full benefits of the Fade…

Of course, that was assuming she would still accept him after he tore down the Veil. The spark of hope was all but extinguished as he recalled the look in her eyes as he had finally revealed his plans as _Fen’Harel_. As he had removed the Anchor—her arm with it—and left her. She had begged him to reconsider and even offered to assist him, but he knew she would not accept the end of her world without a fight. And, truly, he did not want her to follow him down this path. She was too gentle, too caring, too bright. He could not allow her to forgive him for what he had done, what he would do, even if she offered it readily. He did not deserve her compassion or her forgiveness.

Even so, he would do what he could to ensure her survival. He could hardly bear seeing her unconscious and weakened after the battle she had endured. How could he live with himself knowing he had effectively killed her? Abelas’s discovery had given him hope and set his mind more firmly on his path. He would tear down the Veil and Nara would survive. He could move forward now; all that was standing in his way was convincing her to trust him one last time.

His hands shook as he brought the rune to his lips. Closing his eyes, he whispered into it. _Please. Let her comply. Let her live._ He pulled the rune away and returned it to the small pouch he had been carrying it in, then rolled his shoulders. He had already kept her waiting far too long. He knew her resentment at being prisoner would only grow with each passing moment. He sucked in a breath and made his way to the rotunda where she was held.

Deactivating the wards and stepping through the door, his heart caught once again at the sight of her. She looked a mess. Stepping into the room, he regarded her. A slight frown crossed his face as he realized she still wore her bloodied armor. She had not accepted the fresh linens he had provided. She had not even eaten all of the food—it looked as if some of it had been smashed against the door—but, thankfully, she had ingested the healing potion. She was at the center of the room, kneeling, her hands covered in blood and dirt. She had a gash that was still healing on her left cheek and she winced as she slowly stood at his entrance. Bruises marred her brown skin and, despite the close shave of her dark hair, matted clumps of her curls formed where it grew longer at the top of her head. She looked up and her dark green eyes pierced through him, momentarily stripping him of his resolve. His heart wrenched and he paused for a quick breath before continuing into the room.

“Fen’Harel.”

It was meant as a greeting, but he staggered slightly at the title. It was the first time they met since that day in the Elven Ruins when he had finally revealed who he had been, who he still was. Yet, the formality stung. She had only ever called him Solas, or _vhenan…_ he willed those thoughts away. Surely this was how she must have felt when she entered the rotunda after he removed her vallaslin and he had greeted her again as “Inquisitor.” She had abruptly stopped mid-pace at his greeting, almost tripping herself in the process, then promptly strode out of the room. How he longed to do the same, now that the tables were turned.

“Inquisitor,” he finally managed, his mask in place. “I apologize for your entrapment and the state of your holdings. If we had more to give, we would offer it, but it seems you and the Inquisition have been successful in cutting off our supplies. I assure you, I mean no further harm and, should you wish it, you may leave after our discussion.”

He tried to hide his grimace at his last statement. How he wished, he _prayed_ now that she would stay. A mingled look of mistrust and surprise passed briefly across her face before it became blank once more. _The impassive face of the Game, _he thought, remembering how Josephine had trained her. Though the formality between them was necessary, he hated that it had come to this. He fought the urge to rush to her, to embrace her, to feel the soft curve of her lips and her hands along his back.

“You seek to bring me reassurance and comfort,” she replied, not meeting his eye. A strange smile crossed her face. “I don’t suppose you’ve finally seen reason and had a change of heart?”

He lowered his gaze, clasping his hands behind his back. His heart plummeted. Before he could stop himself, a whisper escaped his lips.

“_Ir abelas, ma vhenan. _I—”

“Stop.”

He looked up at her. She met his gaze now and her dark eyes pierced him once more. He wondered, not for the first time, if she could read his thoughts as the fierceness of her gaze seemed to bore into his very soul.

“Stop saying you’re sorry as if you mean it. If you were truly sorry, you would change your path. What you’re feeling is guilt, and no half-hearted apologies will assuage that.” Her focus did not waver and he staggered slightly at her words. He remembered how he was drawn in by those eyes. He had thought them brown, at first, but when she had pursued him in Haven, asking for his knowledge of the Fade, he had realized they were tinged with green. She had appeared to him all sharp edges, darkness, and shadows, but he had grown to recognize the subtle colors—the red tint of her hair, the green in her eyes, the dark freckles upon her cheeks. He shook his head slightly to clear his mind. Despite his wishes, they played the Game now, and she had become an adept player.

She was right, of course. He had no intention of altering his path, how could he? Still, he wavered. He craved the thoughtfulness and understanding she had once regarded him with, though he knew he did not deserve it. He had cruelly taken full advantage of her naivety and abounding compassion. She had seen him as just a man and her will and passion had all but undone him. Yet, with the overwhelming guilt of thousands of souls bearing down upon him, what choice did he have? Their lives had not been his to give. He could not falter now. He had a duty to the People, to himself, to Mythal…

“You are right,” he conceded softly after a moment. “I have no intention of changing course. However, with the events of our recent confrontation and my final duty to the People quickly approaching, I had hoped to meet with you.” His tone and expression were impassive. Despite the turmoil inside him, the Game was almost second nature to him now. She said nothing but continued to bore into him with her piercing eyes, awaiting a further explanation.

“There is a way,” he began pacing anxiously, “that once the Veil is torn, you would be protected. I could guarantee your survival and my forces could guard you against the onslaught of demons and raiders that would inevitably follow.”

He paused.

“You would _live_ and you would be safe here.”

He stopped himself from adding “_with me.” _He turned and gazed at her, although meeting her stare was like staring into the sun. He held his breath, praying she would acquiesce. She studied him for a moment, then shifted her gaze back to the floor where she had been sitting.

“Would you expand your protection to the Inquisition?” she asked quietly. “The people of Thedas? There are many who would benefit from your protection, if our world is to burn.” She peered back at him carefully and again felt as if she knew everything he knew, everything he would say. _That’s impossible, _he told himself, clenching his jaw and willing himself to maintain his composure. He should have anticipated her fierce protectiveness over her friends, her people.

“Such protection is hard to come by, and I’m unsure of whether or not I would be able to expand its reach. I can only offer it to you, and you alone. Still, I have seen what you’re capable of, Inquisitor, and your reach knows no limits. With your survival, you could no doubt ensure the survival of many others. Thus, my offering. What do you say?” He kept his tone light enough, but his heart seemed to want to break out of his chest as it rose up into his throat. He kept his hands clasped behind his back to hide how badly he was shaking, how much he wanted her to consent, how much he needed her, even now.

Her face darkened and his heart sank.

“I’m not sure which is worse,” she spat, strolling away from him to walk along the wall, trailing the fingers of her right hand along the stones, “that you offer protection only to myself in an act of selfish heroism, or that you still view me as a mere tool to act in your stead and ease the way of your _dreadful _plan.” She scowled and turned towards him. “Either way, I have no wish to continue to be at your mercy. Release me.” She clenched her fist behind her back in a mockery of Solas’s pose and looked at him with a haughty expression. Panic overwhelmed him. Before he knew what he was doing, he felt himself striding toward her and grasping her shoulders tightly.

“_Please, _vhenan.” He didn’t dare meet her eye and could not keep the sob rising in his throat out of his voice.

“I cannot bear losing you,” he begged. “You will be free. _Ar lasa mala revas. _You could lead the survivors into the new world…”

He trailed off as he felt the anger surging in her. She recoiled from his touch, taking a few steps back.

“How can I be free from you, Fen’Harel? Through everything you’ve done, everything you’ve lied about, somehow I am still bound to you.” The mask was gone and her face twisted with pain.

_“Ar lath ma, _Solas,” she whispered, “but today, I wish I didn’t.”

Her words were a slap, and he could not keep the hurt from shocking across his face. There was a brief moment where she wavered slightly on her feet. Recovering, he reached out to steady her, but she brushed him off.

“You told me what we had was _real, _yet you refuse to acknowledge the actuality of my world, of _my people_. You tell me of your sorrow…” She trailed off, bending to her right and withdrawing a small dagger from her boot. He was not surprised that she had somehow managed to hide the dagger, but he shifted back. She regarded the dagger causally as she continued.

“I wonder, will you feel this sorrow as you destroy my world? Will you feel the cost, as I have, every moment since you’ve revealed yourself?” She thumbed the dagger’s blade and pressed until a drop of blood beaded her thumb.

Without warning, she straightened and flung the dagger toward him. Gasping, he lifted a barrier around himself instinctually, but the blade met its home in the stone between his feet, vibrating slightly.

Nara slumped to her knees before him and tears streamed down her face.

_“Kill me,” _she breathed, her voice barely a whisper as her gaze settled upon the dagger in the stone. “I will _never _acquiesce to your resolve to burn the world. If you mean to kill them, you kill me as well. You once said you would not have me see what you would become. You were right. If you have any mercy, do it now before I have to see the cost. _Please…_”

He stared at her in horror, unwittingly stumbling back a few steps.

“You cannot mean… I could _never…” _ he reeled. _“How could you ask…”_ He stopped himself. War raged within him. He could not harm her, but he knew he would have to if she would not let him protect her from himself. He was undone, broken as he crumbled in front of her. She was real. Her world and her people were real. He knew he would bear the weight of every soul he destroyed when he pulled down the Veil. But losing _her… _

_“Vhenan,_” he whispered desperately, his voice breaking, “I could not harm you if I tried, and I won’t. The thought is abhorrent. It need not be this way. Stay with me, let me save you. _Please._” 

He couldn’t bear it. Not this. He had spent every spare moment he had searching for another way, a way to save her. Faces of all the ones he had doomed, both from her world and his own, swam before his eyes. Drawing a shaking hand across his face in an attempt to compose himself, he pulled the dagger from the stone and tossed it away from her. He knelt next to her and pulled her into his arms. He was trembling terribly, but he held her tight. For a moment, she was still in his arms and he rested his cheek against her head. She grasped his arms around her and he felt her take a deep breath against his chest. He took in her familiar scent of wildflowers and clove.

Slowly, deliberately, she began untangling herself from him. She pulled away and rose to her feet, taking a part of him with her. He ached at her absence. He felt hollow, empty.

“You must have considered my death when you weighed the cost of tearing the Veil,” she said, softer now. “You knew the odds already and you judged the price as acceptable. Why not quicken your results? What is my life against those you would bring back into the world?”

“What is your life? You are _everything, vhenan. Ar lath ma.” _He paused. “It’s true, I had considered… but I searched for another way, I hoped… I found a way to protect you.” His voice shook and a tear spilled from his clenched eyes. He brushed it away with the back of his hand.

“If that were true, you would listen to me and consider my perspective. You would value what I value and work for a compromise. You call this _love_… you are single-minded. You deceived me at every turn and pushed me away when you knew I would not agree. This is not love, it is control. If you loved me you would not destroy the lives of everyone I know, everyone I care for.” He could not control the tears now streaking down his cheeks.

“_Please vhe—”_

“Do not call me vhenan,” she spat, jumping suddenly around him. She retrieved the dagger from where he had cast it aside, quick as lightning. Solas whipped around, slightly disoriented as he staggered to his feet. He was always taken aback at how quickly she could move, darting silently and deadly through her enemies. She stilled, across the room now, and his eyes found her again. She had a furious expression on her face and sparks seemed to emanate from her. She raised the blade above her head, pointed it toward her heart and squeezed her eyes shut.

“NO!” he screamed, his magic surging in a blast that sent her toppling to the ground, although the dagger remained in her grasp. Glaring, she recovered and flung the dagger powerfully toward him once more, this time aimed at his heart. He hurriedly cast a barrier around himself and watched as she bolted to the unlocked door and escaped his view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I'm sorry. This chapter was painful to write. So much angst with these two... and I'm afraid it will probably get worse before it gets better. Once again, thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A familiar face finds Inquisitor Nara after she escapes from Fen'Harel's clutches.

She did not stop running. Not when more elvhen soldiers made to apprehend her when she emerged from the rotunda. Not when she finally found the field still littered with bodies from the battle. Not when she saw the flags of the Inquisition and tents poking out in the distance. She ran past the camp into the woods. She ran until her breath heaved in her chest and her vision darkened. She ran straight into a shallow stream, fully submerging herself in the cool flow of water. She stayed under until she could hear her pulse beating against her eardrums. Finally, she broke the surface, sucked in a breath, and _screamed._ A sob cut her off and she pulled herself to the edge of the stream, her body convulsing with sobs and shaking from the exertion. She curled into a ball and wept openly.

_It’s over,_ she thought. She could not wipe the image of Solas’s face, shining with tears, from her mind. The venom of the words she said broke her and she squeezed her eyes shut, sobs still wracking her body.

She tried to calm herself. She had been cruel. She tried to justify it as her last desperate attempt to change Solas’s mind. The attempts she had made at his life and her own had been feeble—she knew he would stop her—but she could not push his face, broken and horrified, from her mind. The edges of her vision blurred and her eyes burned, but no tears came. Exhaustion wracked her body and she longed for sleep, but rest would only relieve the physical exhaustion that threatened her now. She was so very _tired._ Tired of her mind racing, planning, calculating. Tired of the endless list of tasks that awaited her upon her return. Tired of the hopeless feeling in the pit of her stomach and the constant worry over the people she loves. She thought of tearing further into the woods and not stopping. Surely, she could find another dagger.

She felt a prickle again at the back of her mind. _You must press on a little while longer. Hope has not yet been extinguished._

The words hit her like a wall, and she slumped back to lay on the forest floor. Her tears dried in streaks along her cheeks that were matted with blood and dirt. She let herself succumb to the blackness encroaching on her vision just as she heard the sounds of soft footfalls in the distance.

***

She awoke with a start, bolting upright and straight into the top of the shallow canvas tent she was in.

“Easy there, darling. Pace yourself. You gave us quite a scare,” a velvety voice at her left said gently.

“Dorian,” she croaked, turning to face him. He leaned back on an elbow elegantly on the opposite side of the tent.

“Here,” her offered a canister and she accepted wordlessly. She fumbled to uncork it with her right hand.

“Oh,” Dorian said softly, “here you are.” He retrieved the canister to uncork it and returned it to her. She threw back the container and relief coursed through her as she gulped the water down.

“There’s food as well, you should eat.” He pushed a small parcel toward her. She tore open the dry goods and ate ravenously.

“Scout Harding thought she saw you race past, but we could not find you in the woods at first. When we heard you scream…” he trailed off. “What happened? We thought you had been captured, or worse.” He rested a hand on her shoulder, his face full of concern. She gazed back at him beseechingly. She did not want to relive what had happened. She didn’t want to do anything but _sleep_, but even that would not bring her relief as her dreams of wolves and the faces of her fallen friends raced through her mind. She took a long breath, steadying herself.

“When we had been retreating, I noticed an elvhen warrior watching me.” She grimaced as her throat cracked and she took another long pull from the canister. “He departed when I saw him, and I made to follow him. I had not seen any of them on the battlefield and I thought it was curious he did not join the fight. A few more appeared and I was overpowered and taken to a ruin.” Once she had started, the words seemed to tumble from her and she could not stop.

“I was held prisoner for a time, then _he _was there,” she glanced at him meaningfully, “and… he actually tried to get me to join him. He said he could protect me and would keep me safe when he tore the Veil. He had a _rune,_ Dorian.”

He cursed in Tevene.

“That was his best offer?” he said with half a smirk. “What, no flowers or chocolates?”

“Oh, I pointed out how unacceptable his offer was,” she said, pulling her knees to her chest, “and I… made him hurt for it.” His tear-stained face streaked across her vision again. _Don’t call me vhenan_, she had said. She squeezed her knees tightly with her right arm.

“I surprised him and escaped. I should have come straight here, I know. I’m sorry. I just—”

Her throat clenched and she looked back at him, searching for words.

“Now, old girl,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for. _I’m_ sorry. I should have been there with you. I’d let the bastard have it for what he’s done to you. Perhaps a swift kick in the arse would set him straight. Or should I go for his face? I’d love to put a dent in that arrogant prick.” Nara tried to laugh but it came out as more of a cough. Dorian relinquished his grip on her and pulled a vial of healing potion from his belt.

“Here,” he offered. “Leliana has sent word to Dagna that you might require her services again for your arm. I’ll have someone find you some acceptable daggers until you can fashion a new bow at Skyhold. Take your time. I’ll tell the others what they need to know.” She took a deep breath as the health potion seemed to recover some of her vitality.

“Thank you,” she whispered, clutching the empty vial in her hand. Dorian regarded her a moment then made to leave. She dropped the vial and caught his arm before he turned.

“What do we do now?” she asked, her voice small. She tried and failed to recover some confidence and strength, but she felt so helpless. Anyone else would be very afraid seeing their Inquisitor like this—small, shaking, terrified—but not Dorian. His face flooded with warmth for her and he gripped both her shoulders tightly.

“We do what we have always done. Recover and press on. For now, we return to Skyhold to reassess. Perhaps Sol—” he cleared his throat. “Perhaps Fen’Harel will hesitate after your meeting, perhaps not. But we will endure and enact our plan.” He squeezed her tightly. “It will be alright,” he said softly. “Maybe not today or anytime soon, but we will make it through, eventually.” She nodded. He held her a moment longer, then disappeared through the flap in the tent.

_He’s right,_ she thought as she laid back. The world needed its Inquisitor, now more than ever. She did not have time to wallow in self-pity. _Harden your heart to a cutting edge,_ she thought bitterly and swore under her breath.

_“What is the old Dalish curse? May the Dread Wolf take you?”_ he had asked.

He would not. Not yet.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nara meets with the War Council to determine the Inquisition's next move in the war against Fen'Harel.

Back at Skyhold, Nara summoned her war council immediately. As they entered, she greeted her advisors with a pang—Josephine had dark circles under her eyes, Cullen walked with a slight limp, and Leliana seemed to twitch at the slightest sound. Nara herself still wore the bloodied armor she had in battle, days previously now. Cassandra, or Divine Victoria rather, had returned promptly to the Winter Palace to address the Chantry. She tried to quash her desperate desire to take a bath as well as her guilt for summoning her exhausted crew. They did not know when Solas would move forward and they needed to be on the same page in case disaster struck.

“My apologies for requesting your presence this soon after we have returned,” she began. “I fear we do not have much time before our enemy makes his next move and, at this point, there are several things we need to agree upon in order to confirm our path.”

“No need for apologies, Inquisitor,” replied Josephine. “You are correct, we should meet. Leliana, have you further considered expanding our council outside this room?”

“I have considered it—”

“Hold on,” Cullen interjected, cutting Leliana off. “We are moving forward with our contingency plan just like that? I think we need to first agree that there is nothing left to be done about…?” he trailed off, meeting Nara’s gaze. She opened her mouth to explain, but Leliana beat her to it.

“What more can we do?” Leliana stepped an inch closer to Nara’s left side, shielding her slightly from the Commander’s gaze. “We’ve combated his forces at every turn and we’ve come up short. We’ve gained as much power and knowledge as we could, but now he has what he needs. If Nara herself could not change the mind of Fen’Harel, who could? We need to assume our enemy means to act, and soon.” Cullen withdrew slightly and dropped his gaze, not meeting her eye.

“Perhaps we have not yet exhausted our assets,” he suggested, cocking his head toward Nara, his gaze still lowered. “Inquisitor, are you _certain_ we have no tools left at our disposal to use against our enemy? He might respond to… _unexpected_ advances more positively than what we’ve tried thus far.”

Nara pushed her breath slowly through her teeth as Leliana sucked hers in quickly.

“_Commander,_” her tone was reprimanding and Nara glanced at her gratefully, “You were not at the camp when Nara returned from our enemy’s clutches, but I was. I am not faulting you,” she added, after Cullen opened his mouth to argue, “Your soldiers needed your leadership. However, you did not see the state the Inquisitor was in when she returned to us. I truly believe we have exhausted any resistance we have against both Fen’Harel and Solas at this point, and it would be wise to move forward from here, to spare ourselves any further setbacks.”

Nara, slightly abashed at the comment on her conduct, sent a small smile toward Leliana. She was grateful for not having to argue her perspective with Cullen. She gazed back at him and noticed his slight blush before he shuffled around the table.

“Very well,” he said, resigning. He lifted his sad eyes to meet Nara’s gaze. “I do trust you, and I trust the report I read. I just needed to be certain. It is a grave fate we commit ourselves to now.”

Nara regarded him a moment before he broke away from her focus. She sensed a twinge of—what? Regret? Longing?

“I agree with Cullen,” Josephine piped up, regarding him curiously. “We should be sure there is nothing else to be done before we accept what we must do now.”

All eyes turned toward Nara. She did her best not to stagger as the collective weight of their dependence on her hit her like a mind blast. She knew as well as they did that what they would do next was solely her decision. She felt another part of her break under the weight. Once, she would have sought out Solas, who somehow had a way of lifting the heaviness she felt and reassuring her. Now, she must press on alone and find the strength he once gave within herself.

Shuffling her feet slightly, but not dropping her eyes, she sighed.

“I assure you, every strategy we have discussed has been attempted,” she addressed them all, praying that she exuded all the calm and confidence that she did not feel. “We must move forward; if any words or actions were to change Fen’Harel, they have already come to pass. He has not wavered, so we mustn’t either. With this plan, we are one step ahead of him for the first time. If we want it to remain that way, we cannot delay.”

With this, Cullen clenched his jaw and averted his gaze. Josephine gave a curt nod and a small smile, raising her notes, ready to act. Leliana glanced sideways at her, but said nothing. The floor still belonged to Nara.

“Leliana, is there anyone else we should invite to join us before continuing our talks?”

“I have considered this and, yes, I think we would benefit greatly by extending our reach. I’ll send word,” she excused herself and Josephine followed. Cullen and Nara remained, avoiding each other’s eyes.

There had been a time, before Nara was the Inquisitor, before they had sealed the breach in the sky, before Skyhold and Solas, when she had sought Cullen out in his quarters, wondering aloud what her place in the world was and where to go from here. She had been terrified and he had always seemed so sure, so she came to him seeking reassurance. To her surprise, she had found him trembling and afraid—the same way she felt. They had found comfort in each other’s embrace for just that night. After, it was as if nothing had happened. If there were any longing glances or lingering emotion, Nara had missed it altogether, and things soon went back to normal. That is, until about a month previously, at a particularly heated war council meeting where they had fought over what to do about Fen’Harel’s betrayal. His words had stung, and Nara remembered them now. 

_“Are we just going to sit around and pretend there was nothing special, nothing _intimate_ about the relationship between our dear Inquisitor and Fen’Harel? Or, should I say, Solas?” _Nara was taken aback at his words—they had been careful to avoid suspicion.

_“Commander!” _It was Josephine who defended her this time. She apparently regarded it as an inopportune moment to reveal their knowledge of Nara’s alleged triste.

“_I know, I know! We all agreed not to discuss it! But do we not agree that such a connection could benefit us if it were exploited? I’ve seen what the Inquisitor can do and, trust me, she is lethal with more than her bow.”_

He had done his best to maintain an air of nonchalance at the time, but Nara knew her face had burned at the weight of his implications. He had played the part of the dutiful commander and he had performed well, considering the circumstances. He had never requested much from Nara besides the direction and encouragement he needed after he had decided to withdraw from his use of lyrium.

Now, Nara recognized regret and hurt on the face of the man standing before her.

“Cullen,” she said in a low voice, “I owe you an apology.”

“You owe me nothing, Inquisitor. You’ve saved us and all of Thedas. I’m grateful for your strength and your influence.” His response was rehearsed, stoic, and insincere. He stared straight ahead, as a soldier would when addressing his superior. She stepped around the war table, then rested against it, just a few paces from where he stood at attention. She fixed her gaze on his boots.

“I’m not addressing Commander Rutherford. You may stand down. I’m addressing you as a man, Cullen. I am sorry. You must think I’m a fool, and you are certainly right. I’ve been foolish in many respects.”

He did not answer for a while and regarded her curiously. She felt the heat in her face, but she did not lift her head to meet his eye. Her throat burned with embarrassment and emotion. Cullen, along with the rest of the Inquisition, had placed his complete trust in her and her misguided faith in the apostate mage. She had cost them everything. She acted like a lovesick child—so sure of herself and her feelings. The weight of Solas’s betrayal was now hers to bear. How could anyone trust her to lead them now?

Cullen let out a sigh and softened slightly.

“I do not think you are a fool,” he finally said, gently. “I do not pretend to understand the workings of your heart Inquis—” he corrected himself, “Nara. Or _his_ for that matter, but given everything that has happened, you have never given me a reason not to trust you. I will still follow where you lead and, if I have ever let my emotions get the best of me, then I’m the one who should apologize.”

She met his gaze at that—his eyes were full and a concerned frown furrowed his brow. She made to reach out for his hand, but, at that moment, Leliana and Josephine re-entered the room, followed by Dorian, Iron Bull, Vivienne, Blackwall, Sera, and Varric, who was accompanied by Hawke and a Dalish elf Nara did not recognize. She met Nara’s eye when she entered and a small smile crossed her face before she shuffled around Varric to stand slightly behind him at the table.

Their small war room had never been so full. She regarded her friends and the newcomers as they took in their surroundings. Blackwall kicked at a small stone by his feet and kept his gaze down. Dorian lounged next to Bull in the corner, his posture relaxed, but his eyes darted around the room. Vivienne seemed as comfortable as she ever did, with her back straight and her chin lifted. She regarded Nara with a cool disdain—they had often disagreed about Nara’s decisions, but she had stayed and supported the Inquisition, nonetheless.

Her eyes rested on Varric, who quirked a half-smile and tilted his head toward the room. She tried to smile back and shrugged slightly, searching for what she would say to address her new war council. Varric beat her to it.

“So,” she said, leaning forward against the table, “assuming we aren’t all here because Chuckles has had a sudden change of heart and has decided _not_ to destroy the world, let me introduce my friend, Merrill.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO much to everyone who has read or left comments/kudos. Your encouragement means so much to me!  
Follow me/message me on tumblr! I'd love to hear more on your thoughts so far or just connect over Solavellan angst. https://segadoraa.tumblr.com/


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plan is formed and new players are introduced to the war council, leaving Nara doubtful of their decision to move forward.

For once, Nara was almost glad that Cassandra wasn’t here to barrage Varric with questions over his friends’ loyalties and previous whereabouts. She had heard a lot about Merrill—both from Varric himself and from his colorful depiction of her in one of his novels—and Nara was grateful for whatever help she could offer.

“Welcome to the Inquisition, Merrill,” she said warmly.

“Thank you,” Merrill replied lightly, obviously relieved at Nara’s response. “I hope I am able to help with your cause.”

Varric nodded.

“I think she will be able to help, although some of you might not like what she has to say,” he said. He scanned the room and his eyes rested on Sera for a moment.

“Right,” Sera chimed in, “I’ve had about enough of you all talking like we’re not here. Does someone want to fill us in or what?”

“My apologies,” Nara replied. “Some time after the Exalted Council, when it became clear that… Fen’Harel,” she all but spat the name out, “meant to end the waking world as we know it, Morrigan discovered an ancient enchantment that might help us if it came to—”

“His Wolfiness deciding to kill us all? I gathered that bit,” Sera said, rolling her eyes. Nara’s mouth twitched, threatening a smile, at the nickname.

“What kind of enchantment do you mean?” Blackwall asked darkly.

“It’s simple enough, as I understand it,” Nara replied calmly. “A rune is placed on a small object, which then acts as a barrier against the Fade and, presumably, the magic that erupts when the Veil is torn. We believe the person who carries it will be protected against this magic.”

“Unfortunately,” Leliana added, “this protection is only extended to the wearer, thus far. We have only been able to sustain enough runes for the people in this room, if you accept them.”

“It also places mages at a severe disadvantage,” Dorian said mildly, yet a brief look of disgust twisted his face. “Blocking their connection to the Fade effectively blocks the source of their magic and, therefore, their defense against demons and other attacks after the Veil comes down, which is why I’ve refused to carry one just yet.”

“That may no longer be a luxury we can afford,” Josephine replied. “With the last artifact in Fen’Harel’s possession, the Veil may come down at any time. We need a way to protect as many as possible from the magical outburst we expect when the Veil is torn. We must preserve the people of Thedas and secure a place in the world to come.”

“Right, so what’s this bit we might not like? Not more elfy elf business?” Sera shot a glare at Merrill.

“Well,” Merrill began with a nervous glance back at Sera, “I might have found a way to extend the reach of the rune. What I need is more time to continue researching, but I know time is something we don’t have. It is also very difficult to test without access to the Fade, but…” she trailed off and glanced at Varric, who gave her a nod in encouragement. Hawke stayed behind her and crossed his arms.

“But, there is a spell I found that would bind the rune to the wearer and extend its reach exponentially, with enough focus.”

Cullen sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Why do I have the feeling this has something to do with blood magic?” he asked darkly, squeezing his eyes shut. Vivienne narrowed her eyes to slits and turned sharply to face Merrill, who blushed a deep crimson and took a step back.

“Well, I—” she began.

“Blood magic? Whatever makes you think this will benefit us?” Vivienne snapped. “And to inflict it upon enough people to suggest it would protect those across Thedas, are you mad? My dear Inquisitor, you cannot justify this preposterous proposal.”

“I agree,” Cullen added. “I’ve seen firsthand what blood magic can do. I’m not sure it is wise to utilize such a dangerous tactic, even now.”

“Who called it? More elfy elf business,” Sera said with a glare.

“Would you let her finish?” Varric boomed, silencing the room. “It’s no wonder Stones always looks like she needs about ten drinks after these meetings. You people are like vultures.” Nara hid a half-smile behind a cough.

“I wouldn’t cast it on anyone who was not willing!” Merrill’s voice had become slightly shrill, but she glared back at Vivienne and held her ground. “It would only need to be cast on the person wielding the rune. With their consent, I could use their blood to bind them to the rune and—” glancing sheepishly at Nara, “—the more blood used, the further the reach of the enchantment could extend, especially if we marked a few additional locations within the vicinity.” There was a soft hush over the room as everyone considered her proposition.

“I’m sorry, my lady,” Blackwall said, breaking the short-lived silence, “I’m not sure I’ve earned the right to speak at one of these meetings, but to me, that seems like a lot left to chance based only on theory. Cullen’s right, blood magic’s dangerous. Personally, I wouldn’t want to volunteer my blood unless I knew for certain this plan would succeed and wouldn’t corrupt me, somehow.”

“And faced with the choice of either blood magic or death?” Leliana cut in. “What would you choose? Because that is what we are all facing now. Without the enchantment, you and everyone you know will die. We might have a chance to save even a small number of people. Will you decline, with the blood of the people of Thedas on your hands?”

At this, everyone seemed to shout at the same time.

“That’s not what I—” Blackwall retorted.

“It’s hardly fair to direct the blame—” Vivienne began.

“Now, see here you—” Sera spat.

“_Enough._” Nara slammed a hand down on the table. She squeezed her eyes shut as the force sent a dizzying tremor through her fatigued body. The room quieted and everyone turned toward her.

“We gain nothing when we are divided,” she continued, though more softly. “If it will put everyone at ease, I will test Merrill’s theory myself here at Skyhold. We can hold a large enough number of people here if we are successful and it would be a good start if we are to project our runes across Thedas.”

The room’s silence elongated. Nara felt everyone’s eyes on her again as they considered her words. After a moment that seemed like it stretched out for ages, Leliana stepped forward, grabbing Nara’s arm.

“No, Inquisitor. You are too valuable and you may be needed elsewhere to further our cause. I volunteer myself to test this theory and to protect Skyhold while you work to expand our reach,” she said, decided. Nara knew from the resigned look in her eye that it was pointless to argue.

“Very well,” she replied, and turned toward Merrill. “How soon can we act?”

“Oh! Well… Let me see…” Merrill scrambled through some papers in her bag. “Ah, yes. Perhaps… tomorrow? I’d love to have more time! But if we must act now… I’ll prepare myself.” She shot a concerned look at Leliana. “You should rest.”

“It’s settled then,” Nara concluded, straightening to her full height. “In the morning, we will meet in the hall. For now,” she regarded the weary crew, some still muttering under their breath, “I suggest we all get some sleep. We will need to be as alert as possible tomorrow.”

Sera scowled and marched straight out the door, followed closely by Vivienne, who shook her head at Merrill as she left. Varric gave Nara an apologetic shrug, then escorted Merrill and Hawke out. Blackwall lingered, fiddling with one of his straps.

“Well that went well,” Dorian huffed. “Perhaps we should leave them and their measly forces to face down he-who-turns-his-enemies-to-stone themselves?”

“Ah, they’ll come around,” Bull said as he clapped a hand a little too hard against Dorian’s back with a wink. “Don’t worry, Boss.” Nara smiled as the two left, bickering, and Blackwall tentatively strode forward.

“Inquisitor,” he said to Nara with a grave stare, “I didn’t mean to… When it comes down to it, I’ll follow your lead and do whatever it takes. I just… wish it wouldn’t.”

“Thank you, Thom. I understand.” Nara gave him a tight nod and he held her gaze a moment before he retreated and left the room, leaving just Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine. She stepped back and slumped against the wall, bringing her hand to her face.

“We are doing the right thing, Inquisitor,” Josephine strode forward and patted her shoulder gently. “They may not see it now, but this could save Thedas.” Nara lowered her hand and regarded her council—her _friends_—and once again felt the unbearable weight of everyone’s lives in her hand.

“How can I ask them, ask you all, to risk your lives for something I don’t even know will work?” She turned to face Leliana. “I’ve already watched you die for me—”

“And I already told you I would do it again,” Leliana cut her off with a wave of her hand. “This may not work, but it is our best and only defense against what is to come. I have, and will, bet my life on it. If this means we still have a fighting chance, then it will be worth it.”

Nara searched each of their faces—Josephine still patted Nara’s shoulder with a sad smile. Leliana clenched her jaw and gazed determinedly at her. Cullen’s brow was still furrowed and he seemed to be warring with several emotions. She sighed.

“I cannot ask any of you to do this for me. The decision is yours alone. I’ll admit, I know no other way to protect the people of Thedas, but I understand it is a lot to ask of you.” She directed the last statement mostly at Cullen. “I don’t say it enough, but thank you. I would not still be here without your guidance and support. The Inquisition is _all_ of us, and I’m proud of what we have become.” Her eyes pricked as tears threatened to spill over onto her cheeks. Josephine gave her shoulder one last squeeze.

“To bed, then,” she said. “And tomorrow, to battle.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nara remembers a meeting with Solas after he removed her vallaslin and overhears a conversation about herself that presses her to consider her heart and her resolve to move forward.

Her tired mind still buzzing from the meeting as she strode from the War Room, Nara started when she found herself at the door to the rotunda. Whirling around, she looked back; she had meant to turn left toward her quarters, but her mind hand been wandering and muscle memory had carried her forward. She was unfocused. Turning again, she searched for Varric at his usual post, but his laugh carried toward her from outside and she supposed he was on his way to the tavern. She thought about catching up with him, but remembered that he had just reunited with his old friends and she let him be.

She stilled for a moment in hesitation. Exhaustion and her desperate need to change from her armor told her to turn back to her quarters, yet something rooted her to the spot. Reaching her fingers out, she brushed the wood of the door. She had not entered the rotunda, had not even been this close to its door, since Solas had left. Apart from one occasion where she had been very drunk, she had scarcely even visited since he had removed her vallaslin in Crestwood, only stopping by for brief reports and insight.

Blushing slightly, she remembered her drunken encounter with the solemn apostate. He had been lounging on the couch reading when she stumbled in through the door.

_“Oh, it’s you,”_ she mumbled when she saw him, slightly confused at how she had ended up there.

“_Inquisitor,_” he replied formally, straightening and closing his book. _“Did you expect to meet someone else here?”_

_“You don’t have to…”_ she frowned and wobbled when he sat up and gestured toward him. _“You can relax. It’s just me.”_

It was his turn to frown. He cocked his head at her.

_“It is you, which is why I should make myself presentable. If you seek my insight, you deserve my full attention.” _His back was straight as an arrow now and he placed his hands in his lap. The long fingers of one of his hands thrummed against his knee. She rolled her eyes and strode toward him, bracing herself on his desk as she almost bumped into it. She plopped down on the couch next to him. He turned toward her, opening his mouth to say something, but she poked him in the ribs and he jumped. _Ticklish._ She suppressed her grin poorly.

_“Your full attention?” _she snickered and drew her legs underneath her, leaning toward him. She threaded her fingers through his and crawled toward him. She pushed too hard and knew he would pull away, but she couldn’t help herself. His clear eyes were wide and a pink blush dusted across his pale cheeks. He bolted to his feet, pulling a hand over his face before he clasped his hands behind his back, pacing.

_“Please, Inquisitor,” _he admonished, _“I’ve already explained that further entanglement would not be wise. We must—”_

_“I know, I know,”_ she cut him off and slumped back into the couch. She crossed her arms and pouted at him. _“Harden my heart. Cut it out, more like. You don’t have to be so _serious_ though, Solas. Even Cullen jokes with me sometimes.” _She stood and closed the distance between them again, reaching out to tickle his ribs again. She dropped her hand when she caught sight of his face; his lips were pressed together and he frowned at her, but his eyes were terribly sad. She sighed.

_“I wanted to make you laugh,”_ she admitted, looking down at her feet and turning away.

He softened his posture slightly and relaxed his jaw.

_“A noble gesture,”_ he said with a sad smile. _“I’ll admit, I’m not sure how else to act around—are you alright?”_ she had meant to hop up to sit on his desk, but had drunkenly misjudged and ended up on the floor. Startled, but unabashed, she threw her head back and laughed loudly. Solas grasped her elbows to help pull her up and she clutched his arms, still giggling.

_"Still think I'm graceful?"_ she asked through fits of laughter.

_“Are you going to be okay? How much have you had to drink?”_ he asked, concerned, as her eyes remained a bit unfocused.

_“Shh…”_ she whispered and touched the tip of her finger to his nose. He blinked and she giggled again at the blush returning to his face. He dropped her arms and crossed his in front of her, taking a step back.

_“You,” _he said, shaking his head, _“are impossible.”_

“_You’re just now discovering this?”_ she asked, finally suppressing her giggling._ “Bull’s right, you’re no fun. He thought I might find better company on the battlements tonight. Perhaps I’ll just…”_ she turned toward the door and took a step forward, but a guttural sound had escaped from Solas’s throat, almost a _growl_. She looked at him quizzically and he suddenly scooped her up in his arms as if she weighed nothing.

_“I’ll deliver you to your quarters,”_ he grumbled through clenched teeth._ “I’m not sure you’ll make it on your own. I’ll send for someone to bring you some water.”_

She sighed dramatically and settled into his arms, resting her head against his collarbone.

“_You won’t stay?” _she asked in a small voice. Frowning, he opened his mouth to respond but, at that moment, Dorian burst through the door of the rotunda.

_“Ah,”_ he said, regarding Nara in Solas’s arms. _“I worried I might find you here, love. I thought we agreed, no more egg-headed companions?”_ his gaze drifted toward Solas and an unmistakable look of anger and disgust crossed Dorian’s face. Nara felt Solas’s arms twitch beneath her and she looked up at him.

_“Oh, he won’t have me anymore anyway,”_ she jested, trying to keep her tone casual. “_I was just about to leave to find better company, but he didn’t seem to like that idea.”_ She reached up and brushed his sharp jawline with her fingertips, but he pulled his face away and set her down gently.

_“I was merely concerned with the Inquisitor’s well-being,”_ he said to Dorian, irritably. _“She was having difficulty staying… upright. Now that you’re here, I trust you can see her back to her quarters safely.”_ He huffed and turned away, resumed his perch on the couch, and picked up his book.

_“Touchy,”_ Dorian said under his breath, rolling his eyes. Nara pressed a hand over her mouth to suppress another bout of giggles. He held out his arm and she grasped it as he led her from the rotunda.

The memory swirled around in Nara’s mind as she stood at the door of the rotunda, her palm pressing against the wood now. Taking a deep breath, she pushed and the door swung open. She crept silently into the room. It was darker than usual. There were no candles to light the murals and the room lacked its familiar blue glow without the light from the veilfire sconce. A faint layer of dust had gathered on the desk and furnishings. The paintbrushes had been cleaned and stowed away—the mural was almost complete. She regarded the most recent, unfinished addition and swept her hand across the faint lines of a wolf. Swallowing the bitter taste that rose in her mouth, she turned and she took a few steps toward the desk, but froze when she heard voices above.

“If you ask me, this plan is shite,” Sera was trying to whisper, but could not keep the anger out of her voice. “We’re resorting to blood magic? I thought the big people would figure out a better plan, is all.”

“If by the big people,” Dorian began in a dangerous tone, “you mean Nara—”

“I know, I know,” Sera cut him off, “she’s trying her best, just like the rest of us. And all of this is on her, yeah? It’s too much. Who’d’ve thought it’d be this, though! What are they playing at?”

There was a pause and Nara heard Dorian refilling his glass. She put her back against the unfinished mural and slid silently down the wall, clutching her knees with her arm.

“Sera,” Dorian said quietly enough that Nara had to strain her ears to hear, “when was the last time you’ve spoken to her? _Really_ spoken to her, asked how she’s doing, tried to get her to unwind?”

“I mean…” The sound of boots scraping against stone echoed as Sera shuffled her feet. “It’s been a minute, alright? She’s hardly around, there’s too much to do.”

“If you haven’t seen her, then you might not understand her mindset,” Dorian said simply. “I found her after she returned and,” he swallowed, “it wasn’t good. I think she’s become truly desperate to stop Solas; we all are. Nara knows the weight of what she asks and, I can assure you, she’s probably more unhappy with her decision than anyone else.” He paused for a moment and she heard him pacing.

“No one blames Nara for her feelings for Solas. We all believed in him—some of us even considered him a friend. I won’t pretend to understand how she is feeling now, but I’ve seen the toll opposing him is taking on her. She won’t stop leading us and doing what needs to be done to stop him, but it is tearing her apart.” He cleared his throat. “If I ever see that pompous, two-faced, manipulative _bastard_ again…”

Sera laughed loudly.

“_You?_ Calling someone pompous?” She snickered again. “Well now I know he’s gone and pissed you off. Though, if we do see him again, you’ll have to get in line. Cassandra’s threatened to wipe that _look_ off his face—with her sword. Personally, I’d like to turn his skull into a soup bowl, but Cullen’s assured us all he has first dibs.”

“I’m sure he does,” Dorian replied with a soft chuckle. Nara’s stomach twisted. “Wherever he is, Solas has a lot to answer to from a lot of very angry, very powerful people. Although, I’m sure we will be the least of his worries once our dear Inquisitor gets her hands on him.”

Sera burst out laughing and Nara heard her swear as something crashed to the floor. Sera mumbled an apology as Nara rose back to her feet and she heard Dorian start whispering angrily in Tevene. With one last look around the rotunda, she turned her back and headed out the door.

***

Alone in her quarters at last, Nara began the tedious process of stripping her armor off with one hand. The leather straps were stiff and cracked: they had been soaked in blood and sweat, then submerged fully, then had dried against her body. She peeled off layers, letting them fall piece by piece, until she removed her pack and it resounded with a soft _clunk_ against the floor.

Nara frowned. She hadn’t gathered anything with any weight the way she normally would after a fight—she hadn’t had time. Plus, anything of any weight or value was confiscated when she had been captured by Fen’Harel and she’d already stowed the few weapons she’d been carrying since her return in the trunk at the foot of her bed. Bending to retrieve the pack, she opened it and peered inside, then promptly dropped it again. _No, _she thought. _It couldn’t be._

Kneeling to the ground, she pulled the pack toward her and reached inside. Her fingers found a long leather cord. Shuffling around in the pack, without looking, she finally closed her hand around what she knew was the jawbone of a wolf. She squeezed her eyes shut as she withdrew her hand, clutching the jaw tightly to her chest. Taking a long breath and exhaling slowly, she opened her eyes and regarded the necklace. How had she missed him sneaking it into her pack? Memories of Solas flooded her and she clamped her mouth shut to stop her lip from trembling. She desperately wanted to melt into a puddle at the gesture, to give into her gnawing need to forgive him, to race back to him and join him just so she could feel his soft touch and hear him call her his _vhenan… _She turned the jawbone over in her hand, then stopped suddenly as she found a small rivet that hadn’t been there before…

On the underside of the bone, there was the slightest spherical indent, just bigger than her thumbnail. It had been carefully painted over to match the color of the bone, she realized. Taking out a small blade, she scratched at the surface and worked to pry the round object loose. After a moment, a slight click resounded as the piece came free and skittered away from her. Dropping the jaw and chasing after it, she grasped it in her hand and swore immediately. Before even turning it to face her, Nara recognized the familiar magic of the runes they had been experimenting with. She turned the small stone over in her hand and, sure enough, the faint glow of a rune streaked through the cracked paint that covered it.

She squeezed her eyes shut as tears welled within her once more. He sought to protect her even when she had outright refused his help, even when she had put her own life in danger. _Why?_ She thought. What purpose did he have in protecting her now? She allowed her mind to wander back to their meeting. She had never seen him cry before then and she wasn’t sure what to make of it. Her heart had raged and thrashed against her at the outward display of his turmoil, but her mind was fixed and had silenced her telltale heart.

_Dorian is right,_ she thought, _Solas is tearing me apart._

Nara had tried everything she knew to change Solas’s mind. She had initially begged him not to leave her, to include her in his mission, even. She had implored him to see reason, countered his forces, and, most recently, threatened the only thing she knew, or at least thought she knew he loved: herself.

_I__t is not Solas’s mind that needs changing_, she realized. Solas had indeed hardened his heart to become Fen’Harel. He had recognized Nara as nothing but a weakness connecting him to the waking world and had severed it without looking back when it threatened to derail his plans. If he had ever cared for her, it was in a time that has passed. She felt her throat block up and her rebellious lower lip began to quiver, despite her efforts.

No.

If he had cut his ties to her, then she must as well. How many times now had he insisted their emotional entanglement end? She felt a familiar heat creep up her neck as her embarrassment washed over her. _She_ had always come onto _him _and, though he did not deny her and even encouraged her advances at first, he had made it clear that he did not wish to continue to pursue a relationship. Why did she keep pushing him? She remembered her desperate, drunken advances on him that night in the rotunda and made up her mind.

No more.

Her people—the people of Thedas—needed her now more than ever. She could not afford to second-guess her fate or waver in her resolve now. If he was determined, so she must be. A hollow calm washed over her as she locked her heart away inside her. She grasped Solas’s rune tightly and sealed it away along with her own in the enchanted lockbox Dagna had given her, which would debilitate its effects until opened. She returned to where she had left the jawbone on the floor and regarded it a moment.

He’d known she would recognize and perhaps even stagger at the necklace. Had he thought she would hold it close? Carry it near her heart as he once had? Stooping to pick it up, she clenched it tightly between her fingers. She reveled for a moment in how it fit into her hand; the dulled teeth still poked the skin of her palm menacingly, but holding it so tightly somehow comforted her slightly. Opening the doors to the balcony, she strode out into the cold and took a sharp breath as the fierce winter wind whipped her. Regarding the mountains, the view she was sure he had appreciated long before she knew him, she wound the cord of the necklace around the jawbone. As a hard resolve settled over her, she flung the necklace with all her might into the chasm below; watching as the wolf’s bone disappeared silently into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next... more Solas POV, then catching up with some other characters!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas watches Nara from the Fade.

It was long before Solas was able to find Nara in the Fade. Weeks had passed lately where he had not been able to find her at all, which concerned him, but she often kept odd hours, he reminded himself. There had been many times where he had found her still working in the library in the early hours of the morning or dozing in a dark corner after a long day of meetings. He figured her habits were no different now—she was certainly busier than ever and he was no longer around to keep track.

At least, he hoped that was the case.

When he finally found her, he was surprised to find her reliving the memory of their last private meeting in Crestwood. Her dreams lately had been comprised mostly of nightmares of her fallen friends. The fear she held for their fate was unleashed in the Fade, each death more colorful and horrific as time passed. After their recent meeting, he had expected her to shape even darker dreams of his own demise to follow. Instead, he watched her carefully from the shadows as she relived the first time he had broken her heart.

“_For now, the best gift I can offer is… the truth. You are unique. In all Thedas I never expected to find someone who could draw my attention from the Fade. You have become important to me. More important that I could have imagined.”_

_“As you are, to me.”_

Inside her memory now, Nara’s face was blank. Solas remembered her eyes when she had originally affirmed his affections—wide, bright, and full of love. Though her memory lacked the emotion he remembered, her words still sent a chill down his spine. He had only dared watch her from afar in his wolfish form since this meeting in Crestwood, but he still felt his thick black fur stand on end.

_“Then what I must tell you… The truth…”_

His entire body clenched. _The truth_. He held back the snarl building in his throat. If he had told her the truth that night, how would she have reacted? He had withheld his true nature from her as long as he possibly could in what he thought was a righteous effort to preserve her peace. Had she not deserved peace, after everything he else he had put her through?

He watched the indecision course through his own face in her memory now, and he recognized that it had not been a righteous effort, but a selfish desire to prolong her ignorance to his true nature. He had numbed himself in preparation of meeting her when she discovered the Quinari attack on Val Royeaux, but at their most recent confrontation, he had been too eager, too hungry, too hopeful. He unwittingly remembered the look of resignation on her face as she held the dagger above her heart and he shivered. The sky in the Fade darkened slightly as the Solas in Nara’s memory recalculated.

_“Your face,”_ his former self redirected, _“The vallaslin. In my journeys in the Fade, I have seen things. I have discovered what those marks mean.”_

_Liar_, he thought, seeing himself as Nara must see him now. Though what he told her of the vallaslin was true, she knew now that he did not discover the true meaning of the vallaslin in the Fade, but in his own experience. She knew everything now. Despite his intention to deliver his truths gently, he knew she would only recognize the half-truths he had told. He saw himself through her eyes; a fraud—too ignorant of her intelligence to acknowledge her input; a coward—too afraid of his own heart to bear the truth; a liar—too stubborn to admit his shortcomings to allow for another path. He collapsed, his heavy form falling against the soft earth, and he pulled his mighty paws over his head, knowing what would happen next.

_“I didn’t tell you this to hurt you. If you like, I know a spell… I can remove the vallaslin.”_

_Another path,_ he thought to himself, _a better way. _Though fresh tears streaked down his fierce jaw, he remembered the faces of those who had begged him to remove their vallaslin. He remembered the slaves who had been slaughtered at the whim of the Enuvaris he had once seen as peers, as _friends. _He remembered Mythal’s lifeless body strewn before him. He clenched his jaw and rose back to his feet. He could not allow their sacrifice to be unwarranted. His limbs trembled as not only the weight of his own world bore down upon him, but also the weight of this new world that should never have existed. He was still torn and tormented by the two worlds he had fated, yet the memory continued, despite himself. He watched his memory’s face as his resolve took shape; he watched a part of himself die in order to bear a new world.

_“Solas…”_ she whispered desperately when he untangled their hands, pulling away. He had expected her to be angry. He could not bear her sorrow. Raising his hands against her—as if he could protect himself from her, as if he could ever guard himself against his heart—he backed away.

_“Please, vhenan,” _he begged, both in her time and his own. He could not bear the guilt of his task, which Nara now understood. Her next words seemed addressed toward both his memory and himself in the present.

_“Solas… Don’t leave me, not now. I love you.”_

He saw his own resistance falter.

She loved him. It was the first time she had said it. It had crippled him, blinded him, and he struggled to maintain his resolve as the force of her emotion flooded over him. If she loved him, how could he possibly move against her?

_“You have a rare and marvelous spirit. In another world—”_

Fen’Harel unwittingly cut the memory off with a deafening roar that broke from his chest before he could control it. The memory of Crestwood dissipated as Nara whirled around to face him, the Fade replacing her memories with a harsh, red darkness.

_“You,”_ she spat as she perceived his unwelcome presence in her dream. Tears still shone on her face, but she trembled with authority and power. 

He was frozen. She had not yet seen him in this form, yet she recognized him at once and turned against his presence without question.

“You are not welcome here,” she spat as she formed a bow.

“Liar!” she yelled as she drew an arrow.

_“Harellan,”_ she whispered softly as an arrow sunk into his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I so badly wanted to revisit this conversation and how empty his words must have seemed to Lavellan. Thanks again to those of you who are reading! I'm going to get around to moving the plot forward soon, I promise!  
Reach out to me on tumblr if you want to bond over Solavellan stuff! I could talk DA:I all day. https://segadoraa.tumblr.com/


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After consulting with a friend, Nara and the Inquisition test their theories and move forward with their plan.

Nara had risen that morning before anyone else and had promptly bolted from the castle. It was Spring at Skyhold and, despite the great altitude, the ground around the fortress was beginning to thaw. She raced down a familiar path she had made toward a nearby creek. Glancing around, she removed a dagger and the light armor she wore and submerged herself in the icy water. The cold shocked her to her core, but helped numb some of her aches and worries. She was quick about it and scrubbed her skin roughly, knowing she would be missed if she stayed away too long. This, however, was a part of her that the Inquisition was not able to store away in a neat box. Although she frequently resisted, the Dalish girl in her still longed for open spaces, the feel of water flowing over her skin, and the rough ground beneath her bare feet. It was all she had known before the conclave and she clung to this part of herself as if it was all she had left.

Glancing upward at the rising sun, Nara quickly adorned her armor and grasped the dagger she had brought with her. Her ears pricked at the signs of life stirring around her. She longed for her bow and to lose herself in a hunt again, but she could not properly wield it without the prosthetic arm she had lost. She considered her dagger for a moment and wondered if she could manage to take down something small, like a fennic or nug, but the growing light and pressing weight of the day convinced her to return quickly to Skyhold.

Everything was quiet when she arrived. There was still a light frost on the grounds and the morning’s hush bore over the walls. Despite the strange sleeping patterns she had adopted in the Inquisition, Nara had always been an early riser; she reveled in the stillness and quiet before the day began. She supposed it was her training as a hunter in her Dalish clan that had her waking so early, but she appreciated the solitude and focus from the morning, regardless.

Walking aimlessly across the grounds, she came to the door of the Herald’s Rest. Sensing quiet movement within, she gently pushed open the door.

“Stones,” Varric greeted her warmly as she came through the door. His boots were on one of the tables and he leaned back on a wooden chair with a drink in his hand, despite the hour.

“Varric,” Nara replied with a smile. With Varric, her smile was always easy and his warm, reassuring presence washed over her. “Isn’t it a little early for a drink?” she asked, although she grabbed a mug from the bar and settled down opposite him at the table.

“Yeah, well, big day, isn’t it?” He retracted his feet from the table and grabbed the bottle of amber liquid, pouring a healthy portion into her mug. “I’ve got a feeling we both might need some extra courage,” he said with a crooked smile. 

She simply shrugged, and took a swig of the whiskey. It burned the back of her throat slightly and she held it in her mouth for a moment before swallowing. _This is good,_ she thought. _This is real._ She regarded Varric as she drank. He had always been so calm and reassuring, even when they faced things that were beyond his comprehension. She had sought him out first when she knew she was spiraling; he always had a way of understanding what she was going through and calming her, even if he had no idea how to help. They sat in silence for a while as the morning light grew stronger and the sounds of life crept slowly forward. The whiskey warmed her from the inside after her ice-cold plunge and she felt her emotion swell inside her.

“Varric,” she said softly, “I cannot put into words how much I appreciate your help with all this. I know it isn’t easy for you, but you’ve done more for me than you know. I’m sorry if—”

He raised a hand, cutting her off, but his eyes were warm and twinkling in the soft light.

“Don’t you dare apologize,” he said, teasingly. “I knew what I was getting myself into and I knew everyone would be pissed about Merrill. You know me, I wouldn’t have brought them if I thought there were any other options.”

“I know. Cassandra and the others might begrudge you the timing in which you’ve offered your help, but I do not. You protect your friends against what their assistance might cost. I cannot fault you for that. Neither can Cassandra, when it comes down to it. She’s a romantic, you know.”

“Ah yes,” Varric had a faraway look now, “the Seeker has always had a soft spot for age-old emotions. That’s why she isn’t as bothered about you and Chuckles. Star-crossed lovers. It has its appeal; you have to admit.”

Nara rolled her eyes at him. A familiar sting arose in her chest at the mention of Solas, but it was dulled now by Varric’s presence and the warm effects of the whiskey.

“Do you think they’ll come around?” she asked quietly. Varric sat forward in his seat now and leaned heavily against the table.

“Honestly, I have no idea what they’ll do. I wish I did, but _shit…_” he ran a hand over his head and clenched his mouth. “If any of them have other ideas, I’m all ears. Until then, I can’t see what other options we have. If it comes down to it, I bet they’ll come around. Between this and the whole world dying, a little blood magic won’t seem so bad. They’ll need guidance, though, and you can’t be everywhere.”

“Blackwall—I should probably call him Thom, shouldn’t I? Anyway, _Thom_ will support us, even if he has some hesitations. Leliana and Josephine will follow orders, if they must, as will Cullen, I think. Dorian and Bull seem apt to help, at least. As for the others, I’m not sure.” Her mind wandered to Morrigan, who had disappeared just as suddenly as Solas had when Corypheus was defeated, and Cole, who she supposed was making himself scarce, although there were still sometimes odd reports that came in, making her wonder if he was still around, helping in his own way. Sera and Vivienne, however, would need convincing.

“Well, it’s a start,” he said, draining the last of his whiskey. “Maybe today’s experiments will convince them. Or maybe it will all go to shit, but either way, we’ll have some answers.”

She nodded solemnly and reached forward, grasping his hand. Nara was not one to frequently show affection, and Varric looked mildly surprised at her touch, but he squeezed her hand in return and smiled at her. He stood and retrieved their empty mugs, then retreated behind the bar to clean up. She stood and gave him a meaningful look, then stretched her limbs and strode toward the door.

“Oh, and Stones!” he called after her. “When you’re done with your Inquisitor stuff, you’re expected back here tonight for Wicked Grace. Don’t think you can get out of it,” he smiled mischievously. “Tell Curly, too. He still owes me from the last time.” Nara smiled, wide.

“I’m sure he’s just dying to redeem himself. I’ll make sure he’s informed.”

With a final nod, she retreated from the Herald’s Rest and made her way toward the hall, unsure of what exactly awaited her, but feeling revitalized and focused.

_We will have an answer,_ she thought. _At last._

***

Merrill and Leliana had been waiting for her as Nara strode through the doors of the main hall. Leliana nodded at her as she approached.

“Inquisitor.”

Nara nodded slightly toward Leliana, then regarded Merrill.

“So, what exactly are we in for?” she asked. “Have you had enough time to prepare?”

“Oh, I could always use more time,” Merrill responded lightly, “but I believe I’m ready enough. Leliana, I assume you have your rune?”

Leliana nodded and retrieved the rune from one of her pouches. Nara quickly glanced around—a small crowd had gathered, including Varric, who had followed her up, Dorian, Blackwall, and Cullen. Hawke stood far away, regarding everyone solemnly with his arms crossed. There may have been others in the crowd, but she focused her gaze back on Merrill.

“Okay, so…” Merrill began. She grasped her hands, then released them, and shifted her weight back and forth. “The enchantment requires both the runed stone and blood from the one who will wield it. The power of the rune and its reach will depend on the amount of blood drawn.”

Leliana strode forward toward Merrill and presented her rune as well as her bare forearm.

“I’m ready,” she said, without hesitation.

“Hold on a moment,” Nara glanced around at the growing crowd around them. She found Josephine at the back of the crowd and met her eye. Josephine nodded slightly.

“Merrill, perhaps you could explain more about how the enchantment works and any risks involved? We need to be prepared for anything that might happen,” she said, gesturing around the hall.

Merrill nodded with a knowing smile. This was both a test and a demonstration for the people of Skyhold. They needed to prove there was nothing to fear.

“Of course, Inquisitor. Now, you may know more than I do about the origin of the rune, but as I understand it, they are ancient elven runes that were initially used as a means of punishment. They would block a person’s connection to the Fade and the source of their power. It was a way of making a mage essentially Tranquil, especially since they mostly used blood writing to activate the rune…” She trailed off, looking speculative and staring into the distance.

“Right,” Nara cleared her throat, “so how will this help protect us now?” Merrill snapped her attention back with a slight blush and glanced quickly around at the surrounding crowd.

“Well, it is supposed to block one’s connection to the Fade, right? And we are anticipating a great surge of power, directly related to the Fade, that will tear down the Veil. The rune should present a barrier, however large we can muster, against this great surge of magic.” Her voice had a practiced ring to it now and she spoke loudly and clearly. She knew these words would carry throughout Skyhold and perhaps across Thedas.

“Anything else we should know?”

“Well…” Merrill picked at a thread on her sleeve. “Blood magic in itself weakens one’s connection to the Fade, but this kind of magic, considering the nature of the runes, could possibly weaken the Veil and even create a rift, if we are not careful.”

At this, Leliana quickly turned to look at the Inquisitor. She hid her emotions carefully, but Nara already knew what concerned her. Subconsciously, her right hand found the stump of her left arm where it had been severed just above the elbow as the whispers that passed through the crowd did not fail to meet her ears. There were many who did not believe the story that the mark had been killing her and Fen’Harel removed her arm to save her life. In fact, many believed that Solas—the distant, arrogant, and condescending elven mage they knew-- who did not bother to make any connections with the people of the Inquisition apart from the Inquisitor herself—had reclaimed what had apparently been his mark in an effort to wholly cripple and embarrass the Inquisitor and her forces.

Nara took a deep breath.

“And, if a rift is created, we no longer have any means of closing it,” she replied in a low voice.

“Inquisitor!”

Dagna rushed forward, followed closely by Sera, clutching a large parcel closely to her chest. Sera smiled and lifted her chin as she approached.

“If I may, Inquisitor, could we have a moment of your time before you begin?” Dagna requested excitedly as she approached. Nara quickly found Josephine’s eye again and though she looked quizzical, her determined jaw seemed to reassure Nara.

“Of course,” she responded, gesturing toward the door to Josephine’s office. “Perhaps we can meet through here?” She met Cullen’s gaze and jerked her head, indicating that he should follow, then set off toward the office.

Once inside, Nara leaned against Josephine’s desk and regarded Dagna, Sera, and Cullen as they each entered the room behind her. Sera, for once, seemed embarrassed and remained close to the door. Cullen was curious and followed Dagna, who stopped right in front of Nara.

“Apologies for the interruption, ma’am, but you’re going to want to hear this,” Dagna said with a twinkle in her eye. “Dorian sent word to me about your arm after you’d returned and told me your prosthetic had been taken.”

“Bastard couldn’t be satisfied with taking your arm just _once_,” Sera interjected, rolling her eyes and striding toward the Inquisitor, enough to poke her in the ribs.

“He just had to go and do it all over again. You’d think he missed holding your hand or something. Your _left _hand.”

Nara managed a smile through her clenched teeth and elbowed Sera playfully, though it might have been a bit too hard.

“I take it you have something for me, Dagna?”

“Well, yes, that’s just it!” she was working to contain her excitement now. “With a bit of help, I think I’ve managed to craft a new prosthetic for you. It’s a work in progress, but I think you’ll be satisfied with the effects.”

She knelt and unwrapped the parcel. Nara suppressed a gasp—unlike her other prosthetic, which had been made of dark steel and was rather heavy and bulky, this one was crafted from a white metal and was more slender. _Silverite_, she thought. Stooping to pick it up, she was pleased to find it was rather light. It had been carved to bear runes that shimmered slightly in the dull light. Frowning, she noticed a few sharp, serrated spikes protruding from the elbow where it would connect to her arm.

“Ah, yes, well, this arm has slightly different abilities,” Dagna said when she noticed Nara’s interest in the spiked end. “Of course, I can fashion something different if you’d prefer! I’ve been working on this one since the Exalted Council, though, and thought you might need it now, more than ever, considering what we’re up against.”

“Go on,” Nara urged, still frowning.

“Well, it was based originally on something Dorian said to me, after the Council,” Dagna explained, retrieving the arm. “’Magic is drawn from the Fade, but it lives in the blood,’ he said. You see, this one is mostly hollow, which is why it’s so light.”

As if to demonstrate, she held the middle of the arm out on two of her fingers, balancing it perfectly.

“It’s meant to be a more permanent connection, you see, hence the spikes. They’ll tap into your muscles, nerve endings, and bloodstream to fill out the rest of it. It should feel relatively more normal, once we’ve attached it,” she stopped and grimaced slightly.

“What aren’t you telling me, Dagna?” Nara asked.

“Well, the arm is runed to amplify any magic it senses within your bloodstream. With all due respect, Inquisitor, you’re no mage, but while you bore Fen’Harel’s mark, it spread past just the mark on your hand. It grew up your arm and I’m told it seemed to consume you for a few moments at the end…” she glanced nervously at the Inquisitor. “The mark might be gone, but I believe some magical traces might still remain in your bloodstream. ‘_Magic lives in the blood,’_ right? It would explain the spread of the mark and how it overcame you.”

“That… actually makes sense,” Nara said softly, looking down at the arm. “Solas once said the mark needed time to adjust to me. He asked if it had affected or changed me in any way. I suppose this was his way of wondering how it had interfered with my physical form?”

She looked up and noticed everyone’s surprised expressions. She had not referred to him as “Solas” aloud since before the Exalted Council. She cleared her throat and corrected herself.

“Perhaps Fen’Harel’s mark went deeper than he anticipated. What do you anticipate this new prosthetic will accomplish?”

Dagna recovered quickly.

“Well, I’m not sure exactly. If my hunch is correct, it could restore your ability to control rifts. You’d have the same abilities you had when you bore the mark, although we might need to make a few alterations once we know what we’re dealing with. If not, you’ll still have a fully functional prosthetic arm that should feel as natural to you as your other arm. I’ve already taken your measurements, so you should be able to carry on as normal, and this one will be much more difficult to confiscate,” she said with a slight smirk.

Nara took a moment to consider this. At first, her missing arm had cost her dearly. As an archer, she could no longer wield a bow. As the supposed Herald of Andraste, she no longer had the mark to heal the world. Yet, she had grown in her role as the Inquisitor. She had learned to fight on the sidelines and had become a stronger player of the Game than she ever thought possible. She knew her leadership behind the scenes was more important now than ever before: convincing figureheads across Thedas to partake in blood magic would be no easy feat. Still, the young Dalish girl ached to have a bow in her hands and a small part of her missed the unquestionable power she had once weilded over the Veil.

“Commander,” she said finally, “would you see if Josephine and Leliana are available to advise on the situation? I’d appreciate your input as well, upon your return.”

Cullen nodded and retreated to find the two. Dagna glanced around the office and Sera leaned against the desk next to Nara.

“So, I may have passed on some information about you,” Sera said sheepishly. “But I thought it would help! All the big people, strutting around with so much to do. I’m still looking out for the rest of us, meaning you, Quiz. I know… I haven’t been…” Sera trailed off and picked at a hangnail on her thumb.

Nara was touched. Sera showing any vulnerability was rare and they had been distant lately.

“I appreciate your regard, Sera,” she replied and grasped Sera’s hand. “You look out for me even when I don’t ask you for help, and it means more than you know.”

Sera gave Nara’s hand a squeeze, then retreated behind Dagna, lightly brushing her shoulder, as Cullen, Josephine, and Leliana reentered the room. Sera and Dagna began whispering quietly as the advisors conferred. 

“So,” Josephine began as she gathered her clipboard, “Commander Cullen tells me you might yet be the Herald of Andraste?”

Nara rolled her eyes.

“I still wouldn’t go quite that far, but it seems I might recover the power to manipulate the Veil, which means I could seal rifts. I wouldn’t move forward without your input.”

“And what risks would the Inquisitor face if she were to recover these powers? The mark almost killed her. Who is to say this new arm wouldn’t do the same?” Leliana leveled her questioning at Dagna.

“That’s fair.” Dagna replied evenly, “I’ve considered that myself. I believe, if the Inquisitor faces danger from the mark, its effects will be the same regardless of the arm I’ve made. If Fen’Harel’s magic still lies in her blood, the arm will not exacerbate it, only channel its power. The arm is meant to enhance what is already there, not tax the wearer.”

“You think the Inquisitor might still be in danger?” asked Josephine. “From what I’ve heard, Fen’Harel seemed certain that removing the anchor would save the Inquisitor’s life.”

Nara snorted as she came to a sudden realization.

“My apologies,” she stated. “In removing the mark, Fen’Harel may have effectively saved my life, but when have we known him to act preemptively? He stabilized the mark after it flared up at the Conclave and along the way, only after it acted up. He probably knew all along what it was doing to me; he even asked about it on a few occasions.”

She laughed bitterly, surprised she hadn’t thought of this before. Wrapped up in her own longing and foolish emotion, she had been slow, unfocused. Silently, she resolved to quash what remained of these emotions that clouded her judgement.

“Perhaps we were foolish in assuming that since he removed my arm, I am free of danger. He probably still anticipated this, which is why he wanted to keep me nearby when he tears down the Veil. I may face the same danger in the future, but I’ll meet my fate when it comes. What do you think of the arm?”

Her advisors frowned in unison, considering this new threat. All three of them started speaking at once.

“Well—”

“If you—”

“That may be, but—”

Nara pulled a hand through her hair.

“Leliana?”

“I’ll instruct my agents to investigate what they can find in light of this discovery. We may be able to discover Fen’Harel’s remaining plans regarding the mark’s magic. In the meantime, if you’re sure the arm does not pose a greater threat, I have no objection to you acquiring it.”

“Very well. Josephine?”

“I believe Divine Victoria should be notified, both of our recent discoveries and of our plan to move forward with the runes. I’ll be as discreet as I can, considering the sensitive nature of the topic, but a journey to the Winter Palace to meet with her and Empress Celine might be beneficial in more ways than one. Regarding your arm, I agree with Leliana. There may yet be danger, but if you’re sure it will not be furthered by the prosthetic, I have no objections.”

“I see your point. You may arrange a meeting at the Winter Palace as soon as possible. Commander?”

Cullen hesitated when the Inquisitor regarded him. He frowned at Leliana and Josephine, then folded his hands in front of him and lowered his gaze.

“Inquisitor, I—” he faltered. He pulled a hand across his face, then rested it on the hilt of his sword, gazing at the floor.

“If there is magic that lingers from Fen’Harel’s mark, I cannot help but be cautious. Especially now that blood magic may be involved. I don’t believe we fully know what is at play or at stake here, and I cannot give my approval until we’re sure of all the consequences. Still, I’ll defer to your judgement, Inquisitor.”

He met Nara’s eye for a moment, then they both looked away. In truth, she felt the same way he did, although she did not yet see any other path she could follow. She clenched her jaw as her resolve formed.

“I understand your hesitations, Commander. Dagna, please continue your research into the effects of the mark. If you need further resources, you need only ask. In the meantime, Leliana and Josephine, please move forward with what we’ve discussed. I will postpone our test with Merrill two days, but tomorrow evening, pending any further insight, I will plan on undergoing whatever procedure is necessary to install this new prosthetic. If any of you have any further hesitations before then, I suggest you meet with me promptly. Until then, we should adjourn.”

The tension in the room dissipated as the advisors left, one by one. Dagna nodded at Sera before retreating and Sera strode toward the Inquisitor.

“Don’t think, just because of all this, you’re excused from Wicked Grace tonight, Quiz. Cullen too. Varric’s got a thing going and you know how he is.” Sera skipped backwards out of the room.

“We’ll see you at the Herald’s Rest!” she called before closing the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, thanks so much for reading! I'm posting this chapter a bit earlier than my usual schedule because I'm going out of town for work and it might be about 3 weeks until I'm able to post more. I'm so sorry to keep you waiting! I'll update as frequently as I can, but I'll be traveling and doing a lot of work on the road over the next few weeks, so I might not be able to post as frequently.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it has been so long since I've posted! Life is crazy at this time of year for me, but I couldn't resist posting more, even though I haven't written nearly as much as I would like lately. Thanks for your patience! The next 2-3 weeks will be pretty crazy, so I might not be able to stick to my plan to post once a week, but I'll do my best!

“How do I keep getting myself into this situation?”

Varric had laughed in Cullen’s face when he showed up in full armor, along with seemingly endless pouches, belts, pairs of socks, and anything else he could wear in preparation for the gamble. He removed his last belt and placed it in the growing pile beside the table.

Now, Cullen was left with only his breeches.

“Because…” Sera choked as she doubled over with laughter. It took her several moments to catch her breath and she wiped tears from her eyes before she continued.

“You’re a shite gambler!”

This sent her into a new fit of laughter and the rest of the table joined in. Cullen turned a deep shade of red and Bull smacked the table forcefully as his laugh boomed over everyone else’s, sending several peoples’ drinks spilling over.

“I thought you’d been practicing, Commander,” Thom teased gently from across the table. Cullen gave him an exasperated look.

“I thought so too, but apparently everyone has been taking it easy on me in practice games in order to further my embarrassment,” Cullen retorted moodily.

“Ah, just bad luck, Commander! It’s a game of chance, after all,” Bull replied as Varric dealt a new hand with a twinkle in his eye.

Cullen muttered under his breath as he regarded his new hand. The rest of the group managed to quiet their laughter as they focused on the new round. Nara noticed Dorian’s mustache twitch slightly. Thom shifted and cleared his throat. Varric leaned back and teetered on the back legs of his chair. Bull, on the other hand, had no tells, and smirked at Nara when he noticed her dark green eyes boring into him.

“So, Inquisitor, I hear you may be traveling again soon,” he said casually as he relaxed back in his chair.

The question did more to unravel her wit as he probably intended. Thoughts of her work and the morning’s events flooded through her mind again. She cocked her head toward him, keeping her face blank. Varric’s head snapped toward Bull and Cullen clenched his jaw.

“Oh? And how, I wonder, did you hear that? Pillow talk?” she smirked at Dorian, who reddened slightly.

“Come now, Boss, you know word travels fast around Skyhold. How soon are you leaving?”

“I have a few days, perhaps longer. Do we have to talk shop?” she replied evenly.

“Indeed,” Cullen agreed. “Not trying to hide something, are you Bull? A bad hand, perhaps?”

Bull snorted.

“As if you’d know,” he replied smartly. This sent Sera into a new fit of giggles and she began hiccuping violently.

They played a few more rounds, during which Cullen lost the rest of his belongings. He looked around the group for mercy as he made to leave the room, but seemingly as punishment, no one seemed willing to avert their eyes this time. Clutching a napkin, Cullen quickly darted from the room. Sera pretended to swoon and crashed to the floor, where she stayed, giggles and hiccups shaking her from time to time. Bull grasped Dorian’s collar and all but dragged him away. Thom, missing a few articles of clothing himself, gracefully bowed out.

Varric refilled his glass and, with a glance at Nara, who slouched in her chair and made no indication that she’d be leaving anytime soon, he refilled hers as well. She smiled graciously at him and accepted the whiskey as she leaned forward on the table.

“I’ll never understand how someone with your stature can out-drink an entire room,” Varric stated approvingly as he settled back in his chair.

“Ah, but you forget I’m a Lavellan,” Nara smiled, somewhat bitterly. “We never stayed in one place long enough to farm, but that doesn’t mean we didn’t produce anything. You’ve never tasted Lavellan Scotch, I assume?”

“Never,” Varric admitted, somewhat sheepishly.

Nara shrugged in an attempt to brush it off, then swirled the contents of her glass thoughtfully. She had fought to protect her clan, but the city of Wycome had predictably blamed the inexplicable illnesses and deaths plaguing their people on the Dalish elves, who had recently made contact with the city. Word that her clan had been wiped out and her family had been killed reached her by mail: a letter buried among the rest of the reports and inquiries she received. No one had commented or offered sympathy for her loss, so she rarely raised the point.

Varric raised his glass and drained it, then teetered back in his chair once more, resting his feet upon the table and crossing his hands behind his head. They sat in companionable silence for a while—Nara sipping the rest of her whiskey thoughtfully while Varric chewed on a toothpick, gazing at the ceiling. Sera dozed drunkenly on the floor and her occasional snores broke the calm silence that had fallen.

“How are you feeling?” Varric asked suddenly. “About the arm,” he added after a beat.

“If I’m honest, a little nervous. Even if it was just an arm, I’m not sure what to expect. It doesn’t help that there is all this magic tied up in it. I trust Dagna, it’s just…” she trailed off.

“Scary,” he finished for her. Shrugging, Nara swirled the contents of her glass before finishing it.

“Did I ever tell you why I call you Stones?”

Nara laughed.

“No, I don’t believe so.”

“Well, a few reasons. First, I can’t remember peoples’ names for shit. In one ear, out the other. I remembered you, though. In the beginning, I had joked that you could turn people to stone with one word, or even just a look. That turned out to be a little more ironic than I intended…”

Nara threw her head back and let out a loud laugh. She shook her head at Varric in mock irritation, but it felt good to be joking with him.

“Also,” he continued, “I remember hearing that you were taking the lead with the breach because no one else had the stones to do anything about it. That stuck with me. Nara Lavellan has bigger stones than the rest of the Chantry, or perhaps the rest of Haven, combined. That much is still true today.”

Laughing again, she rolled her eyes as she answered.

“Don’t tell me you put that in your book. Chances are someone will take it literally and demand to know what’s under my armor.”

“Too late, already published,” he replied with a smirk. “And how will you respond?”

Refilling her glass as she considered, she took a sip and smiled.

“’What’s under my armor?’” Nara mused, “An experience,” she retorted with a sly wink.

Varric laughed so hard he almost tipped backwards in his chair. Nara joined in until Sera chucked a nearby bottle in their direction.

“Shut it!”

With an effort, they quieted themselves and silence fell over them again. Nara sipped her drink and Varric rested his hands behind his head again.

“So,” he whispered after a while, retrieving his feet from the table and leaning forward toward Nara, “Halamshiral?”

“Halamshiral,” Nara replied.

“Sorry to talk shop. I know you’re less excited than I am. Any idea when you’ll return?”

“It’s hard to say,” she leaned back and gazed at a corner of the room frowning. “If everything goes to plan, I’ll likely leave from there to continue spreading the Inquisition’s reach across Thedas. Who knows how much time we have? I know we’ve spoken of establishing a rune in each major city—including Kirkwall, if you’re interested.”

Varric only nodded, hands crossed in front of him at the table, his expression unreadable.

“I won’t pretend to know how any of this works, but I’m assuming these runes cannot be mass-produced? How many do we have?”

“Well, I’m not sure exactly, actually. Morrigan first uncovered the magic through the power of the Well. She worked with Dagna to create as many runed stones as possible, but since her disappearance…” she trailed off. Dagna had been unable to carry on Morrigan’s work on her own.

“I’ll take it that means our resources are limited,” Varric responded lightly after a moment. “I’m sorry to press you, Stones, I just needed to be sure.”

“Sure of what?”

Nara felt the alcohol going to her brain now. Varric seemed fuzzy around the edges as he stood and turned away from her with a sour look on his face.

“Varric?”

Nara stood suddenly, which made her head start spinning. She gripped the table. Varric had his back to her. She made her way around the table and placed a hand gently on his shoulder. At her touch, he softened slightly and turned to her with a smile, then walked toward the wall where a several blankets were strewn haphazardly and slid down, resting his elbow against the pile. Nara followed and he tossed a few blankets her way until they were both comfortable.

“No one knows what will happen now,” Nara whispered, turning on her side to face Varric but staring at the ground. “I’ve no idea how long it will be until the Veil comes down. Those of us with the runes will need to spread out across Thedas. Merrill will have to jump from place to place as quickly as possible, if she’s willing, to expand the reach of the runes with her enchantment. If this new prosthetic can do what we hope, I’ll be able to follow her and seal rifts as needed.”

Varric merely nodded, his jaw clenched. He laid on his back, fingers laced across his chest. He stared at the ceiling; his expression still unreadable. Nara curled her legs into her chest, clutching her knees tightly with her arm. After a while, he exhaled slowly. He turned toward her and sat up; legs crossed in front of him.

“Listen, you’re doing everything you can. Anyone who knows you knows that much. Listen…” he paused while Nara sat up and crossed her legs directly across from her. He placed a heavy hand on her knee.

“Anything that happens now is not your fault, you understand?”

His other hand grasped her shoulder, drawing her closer.

“You’ve sacrificed everything to protect people across Thedas, but even the Inquisition’s reach can go so far. Maker only knows what we’re in for, but you have already saved so many people, myself included. You’ve proven what good one person can do against an insurmountable threat. For that alone, I owe you my life.”

Nara grasped Varric’s hand on her shoulder and choked back a sob. Sensing her turmoil, he pulled her closer until she was curled up in his lap. Despite her lanky frame, his broad arms encompassed her and he held her tightly. He rested his cheek on the top of her head and she pressed her fingernails into his arm. They took several deep breaths like this, together.

_This is real,_ Nara reminded herself on each exhale.

_This is real._


	11. Chapter 11

She did not remember falling asleep; she only remembered Varric’s warm, calming presence as she awakened early the next morning on the floor of the tavern. Light peeked through the tavern windows and her muscles ached from the night spent on the floorboards. Sitting up and stretching, she noticed a dark shape watching her from above. She bolted to her feet, then relaxed as Cole revealed himself and gracefully jumped down to the tavern floor.

“Cole.”

“I startled you. I did not mean to.”

He scratched at the back of his neck as his eyes darted around the room. He had settled into his life as a part-human, part-spirit, but he had still not quite grasped human interaction. He had gotten much better, with Varric’s help. Nara did not mind his quirks, however. She was grateful for his uncanny ability to read people and do just the right thing to bring them a moment of peace.

“It’s alright, Cole. I’m too jumpy these days. How are you?”

“We were better, for a while. People were happy, less afraid. I went away. I found other people to help. Now, the fear is back.”

She did not know if that was a strange question, asking a spirit how they are. From his response, she supposed he had replied the best he could, explaining the general mood of the people around him and how it affected him. He was so matter-of-fact about his observations and he asked no questions, but she felt the need to explain their situation, nonetheless.

“You’re right, Cole; people are afraid again. Fen’Harel plans to tear the Veil, and soon. A lot of people are going to die, and we are doing what we can, but I don’t know if it’s enough. I don’t know if there is much you can do for them, but I’m sure they could use any peace you can bring.”

“Solas. All tied up with old hurts and new hurts. So many now they never stop. ‘_They got what they deserved and so will you.’ ‘You think a new world will treat them differently?’ ‘Don’t call me vhenan.’_”

His last words stung. She tried to keep her composure, but had not had much time since waking up to build her defenses.

“Please, Cole,” she whispered, “I know you’re trying to help, but I…” she trailed off, willing her lip to stop trembling. She distracted herself by rustling around the empty tavern in search of coffee.

“There isn’t much you can do for me either,” she continued. “Some hurts we just have to bear. I know it’s hard to understand.”

He said nothing, but watched her for a long time. She did not manage to track down any coffee. Instead, she cleaned up the pile of blankets now strewn around the tavern floor and straightened the chairs. Satisfied, she strode toward the door past the table where Cole was perched. She briefly grasped his shoulder.

“Thank you,” she said softly. He still said nothing, but nodded slightly, and she made her way outside.

“Inquisitor!”

She had barely made it out the door when a young boy and an elf armed with a bow approached her. Pulling a hand across her face, she sighed and prepared herself.

“Yes?”

The two looked at each other, unsure of who should go first. The elf cleared her throat and thrust a sealed envelope toward Nara.

“A message from the spymaster, ma’am.” She nodded as Nara took the note, then sped off. Nara tucked the envelope in her jacket and looked toward the boy. He was maybe eleven, had sandy hair and dirt on his face, and seemed absolutely mortified to be addressing the Inquisitor personally.

“Commander Cullen asked for you, Inquisitor,” he said quickly with his eyes on the ground. “He didn’t say what for, just asked you to meet him on the battlements.”

“Thank you, soldier. What is your name?”

“Reggie. Reg for short,” he replied briskly, then hurried off. She glanced at the envelope from Leliana, which was likely a request for an audience. Her curiosity piqued at Cullen’s summons, as he did not often seek her out. She decided to acknowledge his message first.

In an effort to exercise her aching muscles, she raced up the stairs and through the chambers to the battlements, stopping only to catch her breath outside Cullen’s door. Knocking for politeness, she opened the door and entered the cluttered room.

Cullen stood, as usual, bent over his desk, with a harsh frown furrowing his brow. When Nara entered, he straightened and pushed several papers aside. He nodded at her, then walked to the front of his desk and leaned upon it, hands clasped in front of him.

“You asked to see me?” Nara questioned. Wringing his hands, his frown sharpened, then softened as he let out his breath. She had rarely seen him like this—unraveled.

“Yes. I do not like the way we left things,” he frowned again at the floor. “I want to be clear—you are not a fool, Nara. You followed your heart and no one blames you for that, especially not I.” He seemed to be fighting something within himself, then resigned with a sigh and met her eyes.

“I know that night was a moment of impulse for us both, but after, there were so many times I almost revealed the surmounting feelings I’ve had for you, yet I refrained. I figured you had quite enough to worry about and didn’t need the distraction. We joked about our mutual disdain for the politics of the Winter Palace and I almost professed my feelings then and there, but I knew you had a grave task ahead of you and did not want to complicate matters further. It wasn’t until later that evening when I saw you dancing with Solas that I realized you’d developed a relationship with the apostate.” A sour expression crossed his face briefly before he resumed.

“I know I’ve regarded you with bitterness since then, but it is no one’s fault but my own. I was sure of my feelings toward you from the start, but I hesitated because I thought it would be kinder.”

Nara could not help but hear the echo of Solas’s words. _“It would be kinder in the long run, but losing you…”_ she clenched her jaw. Solas’s supposed kindness was his effort to spare her the grief and burden of her entire world, which he had taken his time weighing, yet had still judged her and her world unworthy. Cullen’s kindness was simply in regard to her well-being.

“Now, forgive me, I know it is not kind, but with our fate bearing down upon us, I see little sense in hesitating any longer.”

He closed the distance between them, grasping her hand with both of his and pulling her closer.

“Nara,” he whispered, “you are stronger than anyone I’ve known, yet your compassion knows no bounds. Knowing you and following your lead has made me a better man.”

He put one hand under her chin and she let him pull her closer as she rested her hand on his cheek. He kissed her tenderly on her lips and she kissed him back, losing herself for a moment in his tenderness. The moment passed and Nara stiffened as Cullen began moving with more urgency. He stopped to look back at her.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed. She tried, unsuccessfully, to push the memory of her first real kiss with Solas out of her head.

“You’re wonderful, Cullen, really,” she fumbled over her words and felt a pang of guilt as he looked away.

“Is it him?” he asked, gently releasing her and retreating to a chair at his desk. “You still love him.”

“No,” she responded, more forcefully than she intended. He looked at her doubtfully.

“It’s not that,” she continued, softer but still adamant. “The relationship we had is over and I know I’m still dealing with it, but that isn’t why…” She trailed off, searching for the right words.

“Then what is it?” he asked, not impatiently, but with a resigned air. She noticed lines around his eyes that had not been there before his withdrawal from lyrium. He looked pale and haggard. Taking a moment to formulate her response, she drew her arm around herself and began pacing.

“It’s not anything, Cullen, it’s just…” she stopped and faced him again. “Last time the world was ending, I was lost in the world I had fallen into. I was desperate for knowledge and companionship and naive in where I placed my trust. I trust you absolutely, Cullen, and your advice and dedication means the world to me, but I’ve learned that I cannot trust myself and my own heart. I let myself be taken in and I was distracted. I was a hunter for my clan; you’d think I’d know when I was being used as bait. Now, more than ever, I need to remain focused. It isn’t that I’m saying no, but I can’t say yes either. I know that isn’t much of an answer. I’m sorry. I don’t want to leave you hanging, but I… I just…”

It was the most she had talked about the turmoil within herself since the Exalted Council. She felt light-headed, like she was fraying around the edges. Looking around for something to hang onto, she stumbled into the chair beside his.

“Hey, it’s alright,” he replied as he grasped her hand. “Really, I understand, probably better than most. I’m sorry for putting you in this position. You don’t need another thing to worry about. I shouldn’t have pressed you.”

Taking a breath to steady herself, she squeezed his hand.

“No,” she swallowed, “I’m glad you did. We needed to clear the air and who knows what will happen now.”

At this, he nodded and clenched his jaw. They sat in silence for a while, Nara still working to slow her heart rate and steady her breathing. She distracted herself with thoughts of hunting as a girl, focusing on the feeling of fresh air on her face and dirt beneath her feet. Her emotions shrunk back into what felt like a small box within her chest. She wondered momentarily whether it was healthy to keep herself locked up so tightly, but Cullen stirred and brought her back into reality. He withdrew his hand from hers and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.

“So, this arm. You’re really going to go through with it? And the blood magic?” His eyes were worried, but his jaw was set. She nodded.

“With the state of the world and how limited our options are, I don’t see what choice I have. I have to try. This is my responsibility. I know you’ll say it isn’t,” she glanced knowingly at Cullen, who had opened his mouth to interject, “but it’s true. I bore Fen’Harel’s mark. His magic may still live within me. And… and I’m the one he called his heart. Plus, I’m the damn Inquisitor. If this isn’t my responsibility, then whose is it?”

Cullen gazed at his hands in his lap, considering.

“I hate to say it, but you’re right; although, I hope you know you do not have to go through this alone.”

“I know,” she replied warmly, rising from the chair. She placed her hand on his arm for a moment and he met her gaze. He smiled slightly and she nodded, then turned and stepped outside onto the battlements.

Pulling in a deep breath of the cool mountain air, she leaned forward on the cool stone. Remembering Leliana’s note from earlier, she straightened and pulled it out of her jacket. Leliana’s neat hand had only penned one line on the page:

"The rookery. Come as soon as you can."


	12. Chapter 12

Taking the long way around the battlements to the rookery so as not to have to go through the rotunda, Nara trudged up the stairs to meet Leliana. The sun hadn’t even reached its peak in the sky, yet so much had happened already. Dreading the procedure she had to go through later that day, she tried to push thoughts of her meeting with Cullen from her mind and steel herself for the meeting with Leliana. She took a deep breath and bounded up the rest of the stairs, pushing the door open and walking briskly up to Leliana. As Nara approached, Leliana jerked her head, motioning for her to follow. She stepped out onto a nearby balcony and leaned against the stone railing overlooking the courtyard.

“Thank you for coming, Inquisitor. I wanted to discuss something sensitive.”

“Of course. What can I do for you?” Nara leaned on her elbow next to her and waited. Leliana seemed to be reviewing a rehearsed speech in her mind.

“Since Fen’Harel revealed his network of spies when you met him at the Exalted Council, I’ve been doing my best to identify them and use their placement to our advantage—mainly to throw him off the scent, if you will,” she smirked. “You know of some of the false trails we’ve led them down, which have led to some of the victories we had against his forces.”

“Certainly. You know I appreciate what you’ve done to help our efforts,” Nara replied, waiting for Leliana to get to the point.

“I only do what is necessary, Inquisitor,” she turned toward Nara, without meeting her eye, clenching and unclenching her fists at her sides. She seemed… nervous? Nara had rarely seen her as anything but composed and wasn’t sure what to make of this development.

“I’m telling you this because, well, in the meantime, I’ve been developing my own network of spies that has now successfully infiltrated Fen’Harel’s army. They have not yet acted—” she added quickly at Nara’s frown, “—they are awaiting orders and are to follow his commands until they hear from me.”

“What would you suggest we do with their position within his ranks? Are you sure he does not suspect them?”

“I’m as sure as I can be. It is a small team; most of them have low-ranking positions so as not to arouse any suspicion. The important thing is, they know of his position and have access to move freely through the base. They have built a large camp in the Exalted Plains, although I got word that Fen’Harel himself does not camp with the others, only stops by from time to time.”

“Alright… and? What’s the plan here, Leliana? What aren’t you telling me?”

She straightened up and met Nara’s eye, clasping her hands in front of her.

“With the right opportunity, I believe they will be able to track down Fen’Harel and neutralize him before he tears down the Veil.”

Nara gaped at her for a moment, but Leliana stood with her mouth clenched, awaiting her reaction.

“Neutralize… you mean… you think you can kill him? He turns people to stone within a second! What makes you think a small group of low-ranking spies could pull this off?”

Leliana’s eyes narrowed.

“They may be low-ranking, but they are highly skilled, I assure you. I believe Fen’Harel is weakest when he is taken by surprise. If we catch him at the right moment, he will not know how to react and we will have a window of opportunity to act.”

“That’s assuming his first reaction when surprised will not be to petrify everything that moves. He hid his true power, his true nature from us when we knew him, Leliana. We would be putting your agents in a tremendous amount of danger on the off chance they might be able to surprise him. It seems too great a risk.”

She strode away from Leliana, pulling her hand through her short hair. It was too risky, even for Leliana. This felt like a test of some sort—was she trying to see if Nara would act against Fen’Harel when it came down to it? Resting her hand atop her head, she pulled in a deep breath, trying to think clearly. Leliana walked up and stood beside the Inquisitor, looking out.

“It is a great risk, yes, but I’d rather risk the lives of a few who know what they are in for than the lives of people across the world. My team knew the danger before they were deployed. They are willing to do what they must to protect the people.”

“And if they fail? It would set a dangerous precedent for what boundaries we are willing to cross in this war. For now, he has been distant and has not set his armies against us. If we move to take him down, what, then, would stop him from retaliating, sending his spies to assassinate the leaders of the Inquisition? If he was successful, we would leave the people with no hope whatsoever. They would die with the Veil, and that would be the end.”

“That’s assuming quite a lot—” Leliana began.

“Are you not also making dangerous assumptions?” Nara cut her off angrily.

“I’m sorry,” she continued more softly. “Please believe me, if neutralizing Fen’Harel was something I felt we could accomplish at any point, I would have seen it through. You have a valid reason to doubt me, I know, but I would not risk thousands upon thousands of lives for my own heart. He must be stopped: if not before the Veil is torn, then through either war or peace after the sky falls.”

Leliana said nothing. The two watched as Skyhold’s courtyard grew busier as the day wore on. A small crowd had gathered around a training procedure Cullen had begun. A few herbalists tended to the growing garden, gathering leaves where they could and planting new rows. Below, healers and medics tended to those who had been wounded in their most recent battle. They had informed the people of the Inquisition of Fen’Harel’s plan at Nara’s insistence—she had always wanted to remain honest and up front with her people-- yet, she had not yet given notice that the world was bound to end any day now. It would instill a panic, she had reasoned. She wanted to come up with a more solid plan so they could assure the people there was still hope.

After a long while, Leliana spoke.

“I did not mean to doubt you, Inquisitor, though I know how it comes across. I suppose I have not yet accepted our fate, but I realize now it is inevitable. You are right; to act now would be a great risk and a last-ditch effort. We should focus our energies on preserving what we can so we may live to fight another day. I apologize for my rash actions.”

Nara turned to her in shock. Leliana had always had a heart of steel that seemed to grow sharper the longer she spent with the Inquisition. To hear her resign and rethink her actions was surprising. Nara’s heart went out to Leliana as she considered everything she had been put through. Leliana had always done what was necessary and given herself willingly to the Inquisition, without complaint.

“Thank you, Leliana. It is a bleak fate we must resign ourselves to.”

She nodded in response and made to turn away, but Nara grasped Leliana's arm, stopping her.

“I’m afraid there is something else I must ask of you,” she said quietly, returning her hand to her side.

“Whatever you need.”

Nara took a moment to consider her words. Though she fully trusted all her advisors, Leliana had always seemed the most impartial and, generally, her plans wielded the best results.

“No matter what happens, the Inquisition must remain a force to be reckoned with in order to enact the plans we have set in place. Should anything happen to me, in the days to come, will you lead the Inquisition in my stead?”

Leliana frowned and dropped her eyes.

“I…” she began hesitantly, but swallowed and clenched her jaw again. “Of course, Inquisitor. I will fulfill your plans to the best of my ability.”

Breathing a small sigh of relief, Nara smiled again.

“Thank you, Leliana. It means more to me than you know. If Fen’Harel will not see reason, he must be stopped by whatever means necessary, but please, Leliana, do not forget your heart. Our goal is to save as many lives as possible: human and elven alike. Do not forget that Solas was just a man when he was with us. He was everything we know he is now, but he was also kind and gentle and humble. If a path of peace can be wrought, that should be our priority.”

Leliana’s frown softened but her eyes were severe when she met Nara’s gaze.

“I agree we should seek peace, but if he is disinclined?”

Nara acknowledged the final test and smiled darkly.

“Tear the bastard apart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to the people who have left kudos or commented! I've been so busy with work lately so finding time and energy to write has been difficult, but your encouragement means so much to me!!  
Also, apologies for the short chapters lately. What I've been regarding as Part 1 (of 3 most likely) is drawing to a close in the next few chapters. It's going to be a slooow burn, but I'm hoping to reunite them soon!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nara wakes up disoriented and tries to make sense of her surroundings. More details of her operation are uncovered and she discovers her life may be at stake.

She awoke in a haze, blinking rapidly to clear some of the mist from her vision. As her surroundings came into focus, she realized she was resting on a thin branch of a tree, her back against its large trunk. Raising her hand to her eyes to wipe away the rest of her weariness, she was surprised when her left hand met her face as well. _Strange,_ she thought, though she didn’t remember why it had surprised her in the first place. Surely there was nothing strange about wiping one’s face with one’s hands.

Leaning forward to assess her surroundings, she noticed that the tree she had been resting on was white. She grasped a notch in the branch above her and leaned over to see how high up she was, but could not yet make out the ground. Swinging her leg around, she slowly began her descent. Her limbs felt stiff and sluggish and she was not moving nearly as quickly as she would have liked. Impatient, she took a risk and dropped down to a nearby branch, but she miscalculated and fell, grasping the branch at the last second while the rest of her body dangled below.

Tightening her grip, she attempted to pull herself up, but white-hot pain shot down her arm and a brilliant green light flashed behind her eyes. Gasping, she swung her right arm up and slowly pulled herself back to safety, lying facedown on the branch. She stayed here while she caught her breath and watched as faint, glowing lights swam across her vision. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again, but the lights remained.

“Where am I?” she wondered aloud. The noise echoed around her. There was no wind, but the leaves of the tree swayed soundlessly.

Her ears pricked as the sound of someone climbing toward her broke the eerie silence. She sat upright, searching for something to defend herself with, but she had nothing. A young elf pulled himself up to a nearby branch and looked at her with both curiosity and distrust.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said softly. He could not have been more than seven years old. Light amber hair curled softly around his long ears and a faint spattering of freckles sprawled across his nose and cheeks. His stormy eyes pierced her and she frowned.

“I did not mean to trespass,” she replied, “although I do not know how I got here, or where this is, for that matter.”

“Are you hurt?” he asked, looking her up and down.

“I don’t think so.”

“You’re glowing.”

She looked down at herself in shock—it was true. Her skin was dark but a very faint, greenish glow was emitting from her skin. She drew her fingers across her left arm, then her face. She did not feel any different.

“Strange,” she said again, out loud this time.

“Can you get down?” the boy asked.

“I think so, but I won’t be very quick.”

He nodded and pushed off from the branch he had perched on, landing lightly on a branch several feet below. She watched as he disappeared from her view, then focused her efforts on climbing down once more. _I’m Dalish,_ she remembered. At once, climbing seemed to come more naturally to her. Her pace quickened and soon she could see the ground. The boy was waiting for her, leaning against another white tree with his arms crossed.

Finally, she reached the ground and the boy straightened.

“You learn quickly,” he said.

“I already knew, I just did not remember.”

He said nothing in response, but studied her for a long while. She looked back down at herself—the green glow seemed slightly more intense. She wondered if she should be worried.

“Follow me,” the boy said, as he turned toward a small path through the trees. The only sound she could hear as she followed him were her own footfalls. The roots of more white trees stuck up at odd angles and she had to work to keep her balance. The boy seemed not to notice and moved quickly through the woods. They marched on in silence for a long time. Some of the haziness from earlier returned and she reached up to wipe her eyes, but tripped on a root and fell forward, catching herself on her hands.

Another sharp pain shot through her as a green surge of energy escaped from within her and disrupted the nearby wildlife, which rustled wildly for a moment before silence overtook them again. She slouched onto her side and focused on her breath, willing herself to maintain her consciousness. Slowly sitting up, she noticed the boy was watching her with a frown, several paces away, chewing on a piece of grass.

“Are you a spirit?” he asked when she returned to her feet.

“No,” she replied, dusting herself off.

He continued frowning at her, then shrugged and continued forward, more slowly this time. Every so often, he glanced backwards to make sure she was keeping up. They came upon a tall tree that had fallen, barring their path. She looked around, but the surrounding woods had grown too dense to easily forge a new path. Effortlessly, the boy climbed up onto the tree, then reached down to help her up. After making sure she was steady, he released her.

“Can you make it down?” he asked, concerned. “I can help if you need it.”

“I should be alright.”

She shuffled to her left to grasp onto a nearby branch, looking down. The ground seemed very far away and she hesitated. _I am a hunter,_ she remembered, then shimmied down the side of the fallen tree, grasping a branch to steady herself. Just before she released the branch, she felt another gentle pang and wisps of green energy burst from her, but she landed on her feet. The boy leapt down gracefully and they continued down their path.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“To my father,” the boy replied.

Looking around as she walked, she tried to place her location. She did not recognize anything and wondered how she had gotten here. She could not remember anything before she had woken up in the tree.

“Who is your father?”

“He’s a farmer outside the city. He does some carpentry for people in the area, as well.”

“Is he a mage?” she asked.

He looked at her quizzically.

“Aren’t you?”

She opened her mouth to respond, then shut it again. She did not know what to say. Was she a mage? Clearly there was magic within her, but she did not remember ever practicing magic, herself.

After a few more moments treading on in silence, they came across an opening in the trees. A man was chopping blocks of wood on a trunk, sweat beading on the back of his neck. He looked to be in his late 40s and had the same hair as the young boy, although she could see where it was thinning.

“Hello, Father,” the boy said when they approached. The man straightened and wiped his brow, turning toward them.

She stumbled backward when she saw his face and her left arm gave another particularly painful jolt. She knew that face.

“Solas?” she whispered, barely intelligible through her gasp.

“You know my name?” the boy replied.

She looked at the boy in surprise and immediately recognized the blue-grey eyes, the clefted chin, the angular features and the freckles. Her knees gave and she collapsed to the ground, trembling.

The boy—Solas—knelt beside her, taking her left arm gently in her arm. It was pulsing uncomfortably now, but all she could do was focus on his face.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“No,” she whispered back.

“Can you help her?” he asked his father as the man knelt beside her. He grasped her hand between both of his and frowned.

“What ails her is from this world, but she is not. Where did you come from, child?” his tone was gentle, but his question sent her mind reeling. Images from her past flitted before her eyes; she could only catch glimpses, but her memories rushed back into her and she felt herself being pulled away.

“I’m…” another flash of green light.

“I—” a powerful blast of magic sent Solas and his father reeling backwards.

“I’m sorry,” she managed. “There may be a great danger upon me, but you mustn’t—” a blinding light erupted from within her and the opening between the trees was lost to her. Careening through images of green light and black darkness, all that she could perceive was the mind-numbing pain throbbing in her left arm. She began seeing faces flash before her eyes: both ones she recognized and ones she did not. Her vision split and a familiar face appeared before her in fragments.

Someone called her name from a great distance.

A wave of water broke over her head. She surfaced and caught a breath just before a wave of sand filled her lungs. She gasped, but was buried beneath miles of sand, which pulled her down deeper as she struggled. It scraped against her skin, her lungs, her eyes. She tried to scream but mud filled her mouth.

“Nara!”

Solas’s voice was clear and she fought her way toward it.

“You’re almost there, keep fighting!” She could see his face now, full of concern and reaching toward her. She tried to lift her left arm toward him, but felt as if her muscles were encased in mud. His outstretched arm burned through her vision as she was wrenched backward and lost sight of him.

Suddenly, she was aware of a cold, hard surface beneath her and hands gripping her arm. _No,_ she corrected herself, _her arms_. Her eyes snapped open and she bolted upright, but her arms were tied to the table beneath her and she fell back against it with a crash. Cullen’s face swam across her vision.

“Easy,” he soothed as he held her arms. There were six of him.

“You made it, you’re alright.”

She tried to focus on just one of him. Her blood burned. Surely, she did not have any skin left. Her left arm itched terribly. She bit back the bile gathering in her throat.

“Is this real?” her voice was hoarse and the words scraped against her throat. Cullen frowned.

“Get some water,” he barked.

“Where am I?” she asked, but her words were almost silent. Cullen’s arms pinned her to the table and his focus was elsewhere. She looked to see who else was in the room, but all the movement nauseated her. She clenched her eyes shut. Solas’s face still swam through her mind.

_Breathe,_ he told her. _It will be alright. _

She opened her eyes again and could make out the stonework above. People fussed around her and Cullen said something. She closed her eyes and Solas spoke to her.

_Inhale._

She could feel her mouth and her clenched jaw.

_Exhale._

Her shoulders tingled.

_Inhale. _

She relaxed her furrowed brow.

_Exhale._

She could feel two fists clenched by her sides.

_Inhale. _

_I’m okay. I’m here. This is real._

_Exhale. _

Fumbling slightly with her restraints, she clumsily released her arms. She could faintly hear protests around her, but blocked them out. She unclenched her fists and raised her arms before her.

Her own brown skin was contrasted by the bright, silvery white of her left arm. A slight green glow shone through the runes and pulsed slightly, in time with her heartbeat. She traced her fingers over the runes and realized she could feel her own touch, however faintly, upon her prosthetic arm.

Lowering her arms and sitting upright, she registered the bustle of the room. Cullen still grasped her arms, but was steadying her instead of pressing her down. He gazed at her seriously as she took in the rest of the room. Dagna was to her left, taking blood from her bicep for further tests. Several people rushed around her and someone brought her water. She grasped it thankfully, finishing it within a few swallows.

“Inquisitor?”

Leliana was leaning forward against the foot of the table Nara rested upon. Her expression, as usual, was unreadable, apart from the concern apparent in her arched eyebrow.

“I’m alright,” Nara said, still hoarse. Flexing and clenching her arms before her, she looked around.

The room stilled.

“I won’t lie to you, Inquisitor, there was a moment where we weren’t sure if you were with us or not,” Dagna had stopped her tests and regarded Nara gravely.

“There were more than a few moments where I wasn’t sure where I was,” Nara admitted in response, “but I’m here now, and I believe I’m doing alright. Do you need to do more tests or can I go rest?

It seemed like everyone in the room released their breath at once. Dagna was the first to regain her composure.

“You can rest soon, I promise. Lay down and be still for a moment.”

Nara laid back and pictured Solas, commanding her to breathe, telling her everything would be alright.


	14. Chapter 14

In the middle of the night, Nara bolted upright, feeling dreadfully hungover. The achiness in her muscles and the dryness in her mouth sent her scrambling for the pitcher of water she kept at her bedside table. As she fumbled in the dark, something struck her across the forehead. Stars crossed her vision as she keeled back into bed. Slowly this time, she sat up and remembered. _Two arms again, _she admonished herself. After gulping down most of the pitcher of water from her table, she rose from bed. The air still bore the cool, winter chill and the sun had not yet shone its face. Nara stretched her new arm, trying to grow accustomed to its new weight and abilities. It responded well enough to her tests that she looked around in search of her bow before remembering that it had been confiscated when she was captured.

Dressing herself in light armor and passing a hand through her hair, she raced down the stairs of her quarters, across the hall, and down more stairs to the undercroft.

“Dagna!” she exclaimed as she arrived, the excitement apparent in her voice.

To her disappointment, the undercroft was empty. Just before she turned away, she noticed an exquisite bow resting upon the trunk where she normally stored her items with a note attached.

> Quiz—
> 
> We figured you’d be missing your bow. It’s infused with Samite for sturdiness, but it’s still flexible. The runes match the ones on your arm, which should activate with your touch and no one else’s.
> 
> Dagna

She reached out and grasped the bow excitedly. It seemed to come to life in her hand, vibrating slightly and warming her new left hand as she touched it. She passed the grip between her hands for a moment, then retreated from the undercroft, grabbing some arrows and racing away from Skyhold down the path she had forged toward the river. She came to a stop and listened. The distant river raced in the background, but she could still make out the slight sounds of stirring wildlife. Climbing a nearby tree with ease, she perched on a branch and searched the forest floor.

The sun broke through the mountains as she waited. Forest life erupted around her; spring had just begun and the animals of the forest were still slow to wake. Nara was patient. Predictably, a fennic raced into the gathering where she watched from above. It paused, ears pricked, as if it could sense her. Exhaling silently, she jumped lightly down from her perch, prompting the fennic to dart away from her. She quickly followed, grabbing a few small pebbles as she jogged. Up ahead, the fennic had paused again, sniffing the air and looking around. Tossing a pebble to her left, she took a few silent steps to the right and started her hunt. Repeating this a few times, she steered the fennic toward the river where a steep wall of stone rose to the left. She had the fennic cornered. It raced back and forth desperately as she closed in. Grasping her new bow with her left arm and pulling a new arrow, she exhaled slowly and focused her energy. Just as it turned back toward her and bared its fangs, she released the arrow.

Electric energy blasted her off her feet and she landed hard on her back. Recovering quickly and anticipating another attack, she somersaulted and nocked another arrow, forcing her eyes to focus through her dizziness. The forest, which had been buzzing with life earlier, was eerily silent now. The surrounding trees and plants were blackened and dead. Carefully searching the area, she found the fennic she had hunted with her arrow through its heart. Its skin sizzled menacingly as electricity still crackled through its fur, which was blackened and singed as well. Horrified, she dropped her bow. The greenish runes that patterned her arm and her bow extinguished. The forest darkened; only the creeping light of the morning sun breaking through the leaves lit the blackened forest.

_“What the fuck was that,”_ she whispered aloud.

Very carefully, she retrieved her arrow from the fennic and examined it. She scowled at the splintered and singed shaft, then tossed it aside and drew a new arrow. Turning, she jogged until she was far enough away from the blackened area, then steadied her breath. Bracing herself, she aimed at one of the already blackened trees and tried to narrow her focus. With a clenched jaw, she released the arrow. It burrowed deep into the trunk and she watched as lightning shot from the arrow and through the roots and limbs of the tree. The air crackled and tasted metallic, but she was able to keep her footing this time.

“Impressive.”

Nara jumped about a mile, drawing a new arrow in instinct as she whipped around toward the voice.

“_Fenedhis,” _she swore as she recognized Leliana, who laughed.

“I did not mean to startle you, Inquisitor. Well, not so much at least,” she teased.

Nara pulled her hair back from her forehead and again tried to calm her pounding heart.

“You really got me,” she conceded. “I nearly keeled over.”

“'_Inquisitor dies of fright at hands of spymaster_,’ I can see the headlines now.”

“'_Betrayed, right when we needed her most,'_” Nara continued. “You’ll be in big trouble.”

“I’ll try to tone it down, then,” Leliana laughed and wiped at her eyes. “Anyway, what was _that?_ Have you been holding out on us all this time?”

“Honestly, I have no idea. I expected to have to power from the mark back, but lightning is something I was not anticipating.”

“And?” she asked, suddenly serious.

“Sorry, what?”

“The power of the mark. Can you still control rifts?”

“Oh, right. I haven’t tried yet, actually. Do you think we should go looking for a rift? I’ve only opened a rift a handful of times. It might be easier with one in front of me.” Nara frowned. She had been so eager to try out her new arm, she had not thought of how to test her control over the Fade.

“If you want to take the time to hunt down a rift, by all means,” Leliana mused with a crooked smile, gesturing out into the woods. Nara sighed.

“You’re right. We don’t have the time.”

Looking down at her left hand and frowning, she tried to imagine the mark still in place, throbbing powerfully in her palm. The patterned runes on her arm glowed a faint green as her focus narrowed.

“Perhaps you should stand back?” Nara said to Leliana, who then took several paces backward.

Sweat beaded on Nara’s forehead as she collected energy in her hand. Shifting her focus to the small, blackened clearing, she raised her palm and twitched her fingers. She gasped. The sensation was familiar, yet different. It was as if she could feel the individual threads that separated this world from the Fade. Clenching her fist tightly around a few threads, she jerked her hand backward, pulling with all her might. She felt the threads tear as a small rift opened just a few feet away from her. Leliana shouted.

“Look out!”

A Shade slunk forward from the rift as it opened, steering itself toward Nara. Bracing, she grabbed an arrow and shot it at the shade, who lit up with lightning and crumpled with one hit. Racing forward, Nara reached her arm out again, feeling for the threads. Partially mimicking the sensation of closing rifts with the mark, she worked the fingers of her arm to weave the fabric of her reality back together, then clenched her fist, sealing off the rift. Silence flooded over the forest and everything stilled again.

Nara whipped around to face Leliana, who had a hand clamped over her mouth. She stared at Nara in fear and wonder.

“Do you know what this means?” Nara whispered. It was almost too good to be true. Her pulse raced in excitement that had nothing to do with the adrenaline from the brief fight. For the first time, Leliana was speechless, frozen in place. Nara strode forward and grasped Leliana’s elbows—with both hands.

“We have a chance. We can save so many more people. We can _fight._”

Leliana swallowed, then grabbed Nara and hugged her tightly. Neither of the two women were prone to outbursts of physical affection, but they clung to each other tightly. After a long time, Nara pulled away. Leliana sniffed and brushed a tear from her cheek.

“I’ll admit, I believed hope was lost.” Leliana did not meet Nara’s eye while she worked to regain her composure.

“If we’re being honest, so did I. With this,” she held up her prosthetic hand, which still glowed faintly, “we can expand the reach of the runes and tie their magic into the Fade. When the Veil tears, vast amounts of people will be safe.”

“Perhaps there is still hope for peace amongst us.” Leliana’s face still shone with tears, but she smiled at Nara.

“Perhaps,” Nara replied, allowing a small pool of hope to burrow deep within her.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terrible with naming characters, so I named my Inquisitor Ellana at first because I wasn't sure what to call her. I've finally decided to name her Nara, so this chapter and all chapters moving forward will call her by this name. I'm sorry to anyone who has been reading from the start who will have to make a change! This is still a work in progress for me, so I may need to make some changes here and there. Thanks for your support and for bearing with me!

Solas’s eyes opened inside a dark cave somewhere in the Exalted Plains. It stormed angrily outside, but he could still hear the roar of a nearby waterfall somewhere below his cave. Leaning forward from the stone wall he rested against, he crept toward the dying embers of a fire. He added a log and stoked the embers, while adding to the fire with his own magic, more for light than for warmth. Trying to remember where he was and whether or not he was still dreaming, he looked around. The growing fire’s light flashed through the cave. Shadows danced across figures painted on the walls. Nara’s face stared back at him with bright green eyes, along with Dorian’s crooked smile, Blackwall’s stern frown, a sideways glance from Varric, and several more of his old friends—the ones he had abandoned. Turning and traveling further into the cave, he noticed his staff lying on the ground, a few animal carcasses, scraps of parchment and neatly stacked books. He kicked an empty bottle as he walked. It skittered across the floor and crashed into several others.

_Probably awake then,_ he thought.

Dark, unknown figures stared back at him as he searched for a blank expanse of stone. He picked up a few paints that were strewn about, gathering more as he walked. Running his hand over his head and making a mental note to shave, he reached the back of the cave and looked at the blank, dark stone in front of him. Closing his eyes, he was still for a long time. Outside, the storm raged fiercely. A few birds made their way into the cave in search of shelter and their chirps solemnly echoed in the distance. Even with his eyes closed, the lightning blinded him and thunder rumbled in his chest. Opening his eyes, he dipped his brush and began his work. His muscles ached, but he could not remember why. Colorful lights swam across his vision with each stroke of lightning. His hands shook, fragmenting his lines. In Skyhold, his colors had been neat and his lines clear. Now, all his colors blended into each other and his boundaries were blurred.

Above him, the blue lights of Arlathan shone through the mist between mountains. The tall, white spires sparkled in soft morning light. Below him, a dark green forest floor opened between the black thick of trees. Shadowy figures that slightly resembled some of his friends peeked through the brush. The golden glow of evening illuminated a small village in the distance.

Briefly dipping his brush into a nearby pail of water, he smeared a line between the two worlds. Water from his brush bled into the world below and, hastily, he pulled his brush back and forth Arlathan until everything met in the middle. Each brushstroke was more urgent than the next until he found himself out of breath and staggering backward. He tripped over a bottle and collapsed backward, propping himself up on his elbows to regard his work. The colors of the two worlds bled into one another, appropriately. Solas tossed his palette aside and laid back.

He felt as if he were asleep, but his eyes were wide open and his mind was active. He laid still for a long time and did not realize he was dreaming until he awoke, suddenly, in a forest he knew well. He navigated the wild terrain with the ease of familiarity, only stopping when he found unfamiliar scorches marking the grounds.

The air still sparked with electricity and the scorched earth was warm. Solas quickened his pace. He leapt with ease over a fallen tree and into the clearing. When he arrived, his father was not chopping wood, as he remembered. Both his father and his younger self knelt at the side of a wisp. Its light flickered faintly, casting green shadows throughout the clearing.

“Are you alright?” the young Solas asked.

“No,” the wisp whispered faintly.

“Can you help her?” his memory asked his father.

Solas strode carefully forward, kneeling before the wisp. Nara was nothing more than a shadow, pulsing in and out of their view with every breath she drew. His heart caught in his throat and he frantically searched what was left of her body for signs of distress, but he could hardly sense her.

“What ails her is from this world, but she is not. Where did you come from, child?”

His father’s gentle voice cut through the sound of breaking branches behind him.

“I’m…” Nara managed through a flash of green light. Solas’s father briefly glanced backward toward the encroaching army behind him, but his focus returned to Nara.

“I—” she stuttered before a powerful blast of magic sent the young Solas and his father reeling backwards.

Soldiers encompassed Solas’s father, binding him and gagging his mouth before dragging him away. Solas’s younger self tried to defend himself until more and more soldiers closed around him.

Taking the place of his younger self, Solas knelt before Nara, blocking out his worst memory as it carried on around him. Having lived this memory time and time again, he knew there was nothing he could do.

“I’m sorry,” Nara whispered. Solas heard his father struggle against his bindings briefly before the final blow was dealt and he stilled.

“There may be a great danger upon me, but you mustn’t—” a blinding light erupted from Nara, yet Solas kept his face toward her. He heard his younger self cry out for his father as he was dragged away. He felt the familiar darkness of despair creep into the memory.

The shadow of Nara faded and illuminated before him. The sound of wolves descending erupted behind him and a cold blast of magic from his memory passed over him. Solas remained focused on Nara, willing her to remain with him.

“Nara,” he whispered. She seemed to notice him and her shape clarified momentarily. Encouraged, he continued.

“Nara!” He lost her form for a moment, then she appeared again, even clearer.

“You’re almost there, keep fighting!”

Suddenly, he lost her. He could still vaguely sense her consciousness, but panic flooded his mind and he shook violently.

_“There may be a great danger upon me,”_ she had said. He tried to calm himself.

_Breathe_, he thought. _I can still save her. _

He opened his eyes and faced his memory. The soldiers had either fallen or dispersed. The pack of wolves surrounded his younger self defensively. He felt the same way now as he had on that day, so long ago: desperate, afraid, hopeless.

_Inhale,_ he remembered.

He tried to steady his shaking hands.

_Exhale._

He sat and gripped his knees.

_Inhale._

He remembered himself reaching out to the wolf nearest him and grasping its rich fur.

_Exhale._

Almost subconsciously, he transformed and curled in on himself.

_Inhale._

His younger self wrapped his arms around the wolf, burying his face and quieting his sobs.

_Exhale._

He forced himself to regain consciousness in the waking world. It felt as if he were rising up from deep beneath the sea. He laid on the floor of the cave for a long time, listening to the echoing sounds of the birds and the storm.

Eventually, footsteps echoed through his cave and he forced himself up to his feet. The footsteps approached as he fought to regain his composure, finally straightening as Abelas strode toward him.

“Fen’Harel,” Abelas greeted stiffly. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“I apologize for not being more readily available,” Solas replied blankly. Panic flooded through his mind and his heart drummed frantically in his chest. Abelas bowed his head, but his eyes darted around his feet, taking in his surroundings.

“We have been awaiting your orders,” Abelas said, still not meeting Solas’s eye. “Now that you have gathered what you need, I am here ready to carry out your next command.”

Solas paced before him, trying to regain his calm as Nara’s shapeless form swam before his eyes.

“We should ready everyone for…” he stopped and changed direction.

“For when the veil will be torn…” another change of direction.

“We will need to…

Consolidate our location…

Activate any fail safes…”

Solas paced rapidly, pulling a hand over his brow which stretched his features to seem slightly crazed. Abelas stepped forward, placing a hand on Solas’s shoulder.

“_Ir abelas,_ Fen’Harel. I hope I am not overstepping,” he looked at Solas in question, who nodded in encouragement.

“Is this hesitation because of _her?”_

“No,” Solas replied harshly, walking away from Abelas, then stopping suddenly.

“Yes,” he quietly corrected himself, “Perhaps a little. It is not only her own life I’ve been forced to consider in these terms, but the lives of every person who pulls breath from this world. I know my duty to the People and I do not falter in my resolve to reconcile the wrongs I’ve done to them…”

He trailed off, facing his most recent mural. Water from his brushstrokes still dripped down, bleeding colors and worlds together despite himself. He was afraid, he realized. His hands trembled and he clenched his jaw to stop the quivering of his lip. Nara’s words and resolve had shaken him, forcing him to hesitate and reconsider; yet, now he knew she was in danger—the same danger he had hoped to spare her from when he had removed the anchor. In order to save her, she would need to be exposed to the magic of the Fade. He needed to act.

He needed to tear the Veil.

And yet, doing so would betray everything she had fought for and would put everyone she loved at risk. Losing her would…

He had never wanted to finish that thought.

“And yet,” Abelas seemed to read his thoughts. Solas sighed.

“And yet. I do not revel in the fact that anyone has seen me like this, but considering we are friends, might I ask for your opinion?”

“My opinion? On what exactly?”

Solas began pacing again, hands clasped behind his back.

“When I had first awakened and realized what had become of this world, I was impatient. I knew I needed to resolve my mistakes quickly to prevent further suffering, yet I could not unlock my orb in my weakness after forming the Veil.”

Abelas frowned impatiently. He knew all of this already.

“I acted hastily and misplaced my trust in Corypheus, believing he would burn up after unlocking my orb. I never believed he would be able to wield it.”

Solas stopped pacing and turned toward the painting again.

“I’ve made many mistakes and I do not wish to make more errors than I already have. I’ve become a part of this world and I’ve made friends: I’ve laughed with them and I’ve grieved with them. I’ve loved and I’ve lost those whom I’ve loved.

I can no longer ignore the worth of the world I must condemn. Their days are now numbered. I know I must act, and soon. Now that the time has come, I can’t help but count each day I delay as one more day of peace.”

Subconsciously, Solas turned to glance at a nearby expanse of stone where dark charcoal tally marks contrasted with the stone. Abelas followed his gaze.

“How can I move forward now, knowing what it will cost the people I have come to know, even love? Restoring the Fade to the waking world will restore power to elves and mages alike—power which they desperately need. Yet, how can I act as a god in this world, where I am still nothing but a man?”

At this, Solas turned to face Abelas, who was still staring at the tally marks on the wall. Solas gazed at him expectantly, but Abelas took his time considering his words. Silence panned out between them and Solas bounced on his heels as Abelas strode toward the wall and brushed his fingers against the charcoal marks.

Finally, he turned toward Solas.

“Fen’Harel,” Abelas began with a grave expression, “You’ve made ties to this world and I do not forsake their worth; however, you must acknowledge your position now. Your power has grown and, with it, your status. You have become more than a man. You have recovered a history that was erased and forgotten. You are a voice for those who have been silenced. You have ignited hope where there is none. To falter now would be to forsake everything you have promised. You have united us in the hope for restoration.”

Abelas gestured toward Solas’s most recent mural.

“You had never intended for the Veil to last forever. As it fails, the integration of magic is as inevitable as the water from your brushstrokes creeping toward the ground. You’ve said yourself it would be better to be able to control its fall than to let it crumble over time.”

Solas frowned at the floor the whole time he spoke. He remembered when he had given Abelas this same speech after Abelas had questioned his motives for tearing the Veil in the first place. After Abelas’s service to Mythal had ended when the Well was destroyed and he was left rudderless, Solas had found him and given him purpose again in the plan to tear the Veil.

_“You should know,”_ Abelas had confessed, _“Mythal had hoped, or perhaps she still does hope, that the Veil would be removed eventually. Her will remains despite her death, and her sentinels still feel the pull of her influence. It is not as strong as it was—not as _compulsory—_yet, it remains.”_

The two men had been staring at the mural for a long while before Solas finally turned away.

“How long before we can be ready?” he asked quietly. Abelas looked at him in brief surprise before his expression shifted to a grim resolve.

“Two weeks, at most.”

Solas nodded grimly.

“Very well. Ensure our people are ready. The time has come.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few lines and sentiments in this chapter were directly inspired by the song "Why Do I Keep Counting" by The Killers.   
Here's a Youtube link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SxAEyD5Z2r0  
Or listen on Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/track/57hGTDy3A5JFzbmIzrSYxF?si=RDT_2ulQSjmEbNNOjHMXpw
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	16. Chapter 16

_Skyhold. Val Royeaux. Cumberland. Kirkwall._

Nara recited the plan to herself. The carriage lurched and Sera stirred briefly before succumbing to exhaustion again. Merrill dozed fitfully in Hawke’s lap, who slumbered silently with one hand behind his head. Blackwall sat upright with his head resting against the canvas behind him, snoring softly.

_Skyhold. Val Royeaux. Cumberland. Kirkwall._

It had been ten days the initial test at Skyhold. In that time, they had reached Val Royeaux and Cumberland. They had made good time through their journey so far and her party was hopeful as they set out for Kirkwall. Yet, she could not shake the feeling that they were fighting for time and losing. Their campaign across the world needed time that they did not have and she had the feeling their time was drawing to a close.

_Skyhold._

***

“You’re sure about this?” Nara had asked.

“Of course.”

Leliana held a runed stone in her hand with a dagger at her wrist, awaiting Merrill’s signal. They stood near the front gate of Skyhold in the courtyard.

“Someone can help, you don’t have to—”

“I’m ready.” Leliana’s grip tightened on her dagger. Merrill nodded and Leliana sliced without hesitation. For a moment, everyone was still. The moment passed.

Blood gushed from Leliana’s arm and Merrill snapped into action, syphoning blood through the runed stone. The rune’s color changed from a soft green to a violent red and the blood that emerged from the stone pulsed and sputtered angrily. Without missing a beat, Merrill used the blood to recreate the rune upon the stone at Skyhold’s entrance. A medic fashioned a tourniquet to Leliana’s arm to staunch the flow of blood until they reached the location for the next rune, while Merrill controlled the flow of blood emerging from the rune. They had planned for six runes in total, each at a strategic point within Skyhold, which would, ideally, encompass their fortress in a hexagonal barrier of safety.

After Merrill completed the first rune, Nara regarded Leliana, who already looked pale.

“Can you handle five more?” she asked.

“I’ll let you know,” Leliana responded, squeezing her eyes shut at the pain as she was chauffeured to the next location.

Nara raised her prosthetic arm and braced herself as Sera and Blackwall came to her side.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” replied Blackwall.

“Get on with it,” Sera rolled her eyes as she braced herself.

Nara carefully formed a rift and, taking one last glance around Skyhold, stepped into the Fade.

Fighting through the whooping sensation in her stomach as she found her footing, she looked back to check on her companions. Sera groaned as she stepped through and clenched her stomach. Blackwall frowned and tightened his grip on his weapon. This was their first time walking physically in the Fade. At Adamant, Solas, Varric, and Cassandra had fallen through the rift with her and Nara shivered as she remembered what they had faced. Once they were both through, Nara closed the rift behind them to ensure no demons escaped into the waking world. Silence pressed in on them like a blanket had been thrown over their heads.

“Right,” Nara breathed. “To work.”

Looking around, they tried to find something concrete to form the rune upon. The group trekked forward a few places until they found what resembled one of the outer walls of Skyhold. Nara ran her right hand over the stone and nodded to Sera and Blackwall. Stepping back, she raised her prosthetic arm and touched two fingers to the stone, closing her eyes. Concentrating with all her might, she tried to locate the strands of the Veil she felt when she created the rift. Steadily, carefully, and with her eyes still clenched tightly, she traced the pattern of the rune onto the stone with her fingers. Her hand stilled as she finished.

Peeking her eyes open, she gasped. The rune’s green glow was faint, yet unmistakably present in the misty darkness. She glanced backward toward Sera and Blackwall, who seemed just as surprised as she was.

The rune had activated. Their plan had worked. It seemed almost too good to be true. Of course, they wouldn’t know if they had truly been successful until the Veil was torn, but this seemed like a step in the right direction. The feeling of hope Nara had let in when she first tested her prosthetic bubbled up in her stomach. If this could work… she thought. She knew what it meant. Swallowing the emotion rising in her throat, she focused on her next task.

Almost afraid the rune would disappear; she carefully removed her fingers from the stone and fumbled in her pouch for the vial of Leliana’s blood she had drawn that morning. She dipped one finger in the blood and retraced the rune, leaving a patterned red streak behind. The rune’s brightness dulled to a deep, forest green. After recorking the vial, she turned back toward Sera and Blackwall.

“That should do it.” She looked past them.

“Five to go.”

***

Nara, Sera, and Blackwall came crashing through a rift back into Skyhold, exhausted and battle worn. The longer they had worked, the more demons they had encountered in the Fade. They had been well-equipped and prepared to encounter trouble, but the effort spent in the sporadic battles combined with the energy of casting the runes had drained them. Nara carefully closed the rift behind them once everyone was safely through and the three collapsed to the floor in a heap. 

Regaining her composure after a few beats, Nara slowly stood and realized that they were in the rotunda.

_How fitting,_ she thought.

“Is everyone alright?” she looked around.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to that.” Blackwall rested an elbow on one knee, taking deep breaths. Sera just grimaced from where she still lay on the floor and lifted an arm to give Nara a thumbs up.

“I have to retrace Merrill’s runes. I’ll meet you back in the War Room when I’m done?”

They both nodded.

“Check on Leliana for me. Find me if there’s any trouble.”

Taking her exit from the rotunda, she headed toward Skyhold’s gate where she knew the first rune was. Once she reached it, she stopped and took a few breaths. She was not entirely sure what she was supposed to do, but knew she could strengthen the rune if she could somehow tie the Fade to the runes here. It was a precaution, one they hoped would strengthen the barrier they hoped to create. Blood tied to blood; rune tied to rune. Raising her left arm to where the pattern began, she closed her eyes again to gather her focus. It was almost as if she already knew what to do—or, at least, her hand did. She felt the energy around her and channeled it through her fingertips as she traced Merrill’s neat rune. Still adjusting to her prosthetic, she was surprised to feel warmth spread from the fingers on the arm—her fingers—and up her wrist. She opened her eyes. A forest green rune now glowed back at her, an exact replica of the runes she had created in the Fade. She stared at in wonder for a moment, before her pressing concern for Leliana returned and she raced to the next location.

Blackwall was waiting for her at the fifth location. Nara’s breath caught when she saw him.

“Is she—” she began.

“She’s fine,” Blackwall raised a hand, cutting her off. “She was weak when they finished, but insisted on meeting you. She moved too quickly and fainted. She’s resting now and will be just fine, I just thought you should know.”

“Thank you,” Nara replied, resting against the wall for a moment. She was dizzy from the magical exertion and terribly thirsty. Anticipating her need, Blackwall offered her a cannister.

“Water?” he offered. Gratefully, Nara took the cannister and drank.

“It leaves a strange taste in your mouth, being in the Fade.” He opened his mouth to elaborate, then closed it with a frown.

“I know what you mean,” Nara helped, familiar with the effects. “It’s the same, but unfamiliar. It’s like drinking water in a new place. It’s the same substance, but it feels different.”

Blackwall just kept frowning.

“I only have two more. I’ll meet you in the War Room?”

“I’ll come with you. I won’t have you fainting on me as well,” Blackwall replied, offering her his arm.

Nara laughed and swatted his hand away.

“I’m not there yet, but I’ll let you know if I start to swoon,” she joked.

Blackwall continued monitoring her as she completed the last two runes. When she finished, they hurried to the War Room, where Cullen, Vivienne, Josephine, Sera, Merrill, and Hawke were already waiting. Dorian had already left, heading back to Minrathous and promising to send word through the crystal when he arrived. Varric had left as well to return to Kirkwall—apparently there was some pressing business he needed to attend to. Bull snuck away that afternoon, leaving Nara a note promising he wouldn’t be a stranger. If she was being honest with herself, she was grateful for Bull’s swift departure. Saying goodbye to Dorian and Varric without knowing when, or if, she would see them again had fractured something in her. Despite knowing they needed to go, she had wanted to run after them and beg them to stay.

Three runed stones had been placed above the map in front of her. Reaching into her pocket, Nara retrieved her own rune and the small stone that Solas had smuggled into her pack.

Vivienne eyed her suspiciously as she placed the two stones amongst the others.

“I found this in my pouch after I was captured. It looks and feels the same as the others and I have reason to believe that he meant for it to protect me, so we may as well use it,” she explained to the room. Everyone shifted awkwardly, unsure of where to start.

“One rune has already been used here, where Leliana will stay,” Cullen began, “and I’m sure she will keep searching for more information on how to create more runes while she’s here. Where is our next priority?”

“I believe Val Royeaux would be of utmost importance,” Josephine offered. “We can send word to Empress Celine that we’d like to meet her there instead of Halamshiral. With Briala at her side and Cassandra as Divine, I’m sure they would be sympathetic to our cause.”

“The College of Magi in Cumberland should also be a priority,” Vivienne added. “With spirits and the fade so close at hand, the mages will need protection.”

“Right,” Nara agreed. “We should focus on where we already have ties. Cassandra is in Val Royeaux and Vivienne could ease our way in Cumberland. Where else? Perhaps Minrathous where Dorian is established? Josephine has family in Antiva…” she trailed off, trying to calculate how long it would take to reach each location.

“What about the Free Marches?” Cullen offered. “Nara, is your clan still near Ostwick? Perhaps they could help negotiate—”

“They were,” Nara interrupted, trying and failing to keep the hostility out of her voice.

Josephine looked at the ground.

“Oh, have they moved?” he asked. Josephine shot him a dark look and comprehension dawned over Cullen’s face before a dark blush replaced it.

“Kirkwall.” Hawke abandoned his perch against the wall and stepped forward, moving a stone to mark the location on the map.

“Varric is in Kirkwall,” he added.

“Of course,” Nara replied vehemently, grateful for the diversion.

“Cullen, isn’t your family in Denerim?” she asked lightly, not meeting his eye and trying her hardest to keep her bitterness at bay. His blush darkened further to a deep crimson.

“Yes,” he replied with his eyes on the floor.

“Then we have contacts in Kirkwall, Denerim, Minrathous, Val Royeaux, Cumberland, and Antiva City. We only have six runes and one has already been linked to Skyhold. How do we narrow it down?”

“We don’t know how much time we have,” Josephine reasoned. “We should start with the closest cities. Urge people to take refuge in those cities until we know for certain how we can expand further.”

“Val Royeaux, Cumberland, and Kirkwall would be the quickest route,” Cullen reasoned. “From there, you could either travel north to Antiva and Tevinter or south to Ferelden.”

There was a moment of silence while everyone eyed the map. A trip to Val Royeaux, Cumberland, and Kirkwall would take a fortnight in the best conditions.

“Perhaps the rest of us could meet in Kirkwall to reconvene and establish our next route?” Josephine suggested.

“If time is of the essence like you say it is, will it really do anyone any good to wait around?” Hawke rolled his eyes in frustration and leaned over the map.

“If you have contacts in these cities,” he continued while moving the rest of the stones to the locations they had indicated, “Send your contacts along with the runes ahead of your arrival. Once everyone has arrived, they can send word of the situation in their location and we can set our priorities from there.”

Two stones remained when he had finished and Minrathous, Antiva City, and Denerim had not been marked.

“Send this to Dorian,” Cullen said as he moved a stone to Minrathous, “He may be able to study it and recreate our process. Denerim is closer to the rest of the locations than Antiva. If it comes down to it, the people of Denerim will have an easier time making the journey.”

He placed the final stone at Antiva City. Nara ran through a checklist in her head.

“What about Bull?” Sera asked what Nara had been wondering.

“He promised me he would be in touch,” Nara replied, making a mental note to write to Bull, then turned toward Sera. “I’m sure he’s not far from Dorian. I’ll make sure he’s safe.”

For a moment, everyone stared at the map, retracing their path and making sure they hadn’t missed anything. Nara looked up and met the eyes of her companions as, one by one, they turned to face her.

Their plan seemed desultory at best, but Nara could not think of another way. At this point, they were scrambling to preserve whatever they could, with no proof of whether or not they would succeed. She tried to muster some confidence to help affirm her friends, but came up short.

“I’ll leave tonight with Merrill and Sera, Hawke, and Blackwall, if you’ll join me. Once everyone arrives at their destination, I will gather your reports and we will set our priorities from there. I will keep everyone updated on our status as we travel and we will do what we can.”

She looked at the faces of the Inquisition and remembered the force they had built from the ground up when all hope seemed lost so long ago. 

“We can still reach those who will listen. We will not give up.”

***

The carriage swayed dangerously in the storm as they neared Kirkwall. It was the middle of the night. Nara couldn’t remember the last time she had slept for more than an hour, but her mind raced endlessly. They had kept to their schedule as tightly as they could, yet each minute that passed weighed upon her heavily. Her fingers found the edges of the letters in her pocket.

“

She wished Josephine were here to help her understand the events at Val Royeaux. Cassandra had managed to convince Empress Celine to allow them to cast their runes around the city, but she had left with a bad taste in her mouth—the Empire may have allowed their blood magic ritual on their “sacred grounds” in order to save their own skins, yet she knew their work was not finished. Celine had wanted assurances and Nara was not entirely sure what they had agreed to in order to ensure their safety.

_Leliana will know what to do,_ she told herself. But Leliana was at Skyhold, dealing with the droves of refugees from both Orlais and Ferelden who had shown up when they had uttered a warning to retreat to one of their safe havens. Everyone was overwhelmed in their duties and there was nothing to be done about it but press onward and reach as many cities as they could.

What Nara really longed for was to talk to Solas.

She had sought him out after the Inquisition was first formed, after Haven was destroyed, after she was named Inquisitor, and every time the threat of Corypheus had seemed too much for her to handle. Even after he had ended their romantic relationship, his advice on how to move forward seemed to steady her and give her purpose. She felt herself fraying at the edges with panic and despite her hurt and anger toward him, she longed for his guidance and advice.

She tried to push the thought from her mind, remembering their last few meetings. He had left her. He had turned her world upside-down with a few words, then left her again. Worst of all, he had not wavered in his mission to destroy the world. He now fought against soldiers he had once fought beside, killed soldiers whose faces he knew. Despite whatever remorse he felt for his actions, he pressed on. Anger burned through her veins in a now familiar pattern.

Suddenly, the carriage lurched and came to an abrupt halt. Nara poked her head out of the back end as the rest of the passengers stirred. At first, she was disoriented. The black night was barely recognizable through a thick green fog that had descended. She stepped out of the carriage and took a few steps toward the driver.

“How close are we?” she asked. He did not have a chance to answer before a shocking white light wiped out the sky. Blinded, she turned and fumbled, frantically searching for the rest of her party. She heard someone—she couldn’t be sure who-- exit the carriage and grasped them.

“_Run,_” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut and willing her eyesight to return.

“RUN!” she repeated at a shout. “Find shelter!”

Her vision returned slowly and in a haze, but she could make out a few shapes as they raced back the way they came. She followed Blackwall’s hulking figure as their driver directed them to what he thought was an abandoned house they had passed recently.

“Shit, shit, _shit,_” she repeated with each step. This could not be happening yet. It was too soon. She fumbled in her pocket for the rune she carried—the one Solas had smuggled into her bag—and clenched it tightly in her palm.

Everyone clamored inside the house. She slammed the door behind them and grabbed Hawke. Thrusting the rune into his hand, she drew her knife and sliced his wrist in one movement.

“Merrill!” she shouted as she held her left hand over Hawke’s wound, staunching the flow.

Merrill looked horrified, but did not hesitate.

“Make a tourniquet,” she barked at Sera and Blackwall. “Keep him awake.”

“What the fuck? What are you—”

The rest of Hawke’s protest was cut off when Nara stepped through a rift. Quickly and shakily, she formed a rune upon the door of the house with her hand that was already soaked in Hawke’s blood. She leapt back through the rift and clenched her fist to seal it behind her as she raced to Merrill’s rune and traced it over. She quickly glanced over the room.

“Stay here and watch each other’s backs. Be safe.”

With that, she bolted out the door and slammed it shut behind her. She heard Sera shout after her and some commotion as she left, but she did not look back. There was a rippling green light in the west that was growing larger with each second. Cutting a horse free of the carriage, she swung herself onto its back and raced forward toward Kirkwall. The tired horse raced faithfully onward even as she pushed it to go faster and faster. She clenched its mane with all of her might and her muscles screamed in protest, but she did not care. She had to reach Kirkwall. She had to find Varric. She had to.

She could just make out the outer perimeter of Lowtown when something smacked against her back and sent her flying through the air. She landed hard on her shoulder and flipped before coming to rest. Blinking through the pain, she looked around for what had struck her and gasped in horror. The green, shimmering light had caught up with her. Her horse lay still several feet from her. Rifts were opening all around her and hundreds of dark figures moved in the distance.

“No,” she whispered, stepping backward, then turning and bolting forward in a sprint.

“NO!” she cried as tears of pain and panic fell from her eyes. She could make out the city’s outskirts as she raced forward. Shadowed figures stood in the streets, gazing up at the sky.

“TAKE COVER!” she shouted at them. She would not reach them. She felt around for her bow as she heard a hiss behind her. Not breaking her stride, she twisted and shot an arrow at a Shade demon as it closed in. As it fell, more approached. She nocked another arrow, her shoulder sending shooting pains through her as she did and she shot more arrows into the mass. She heard the groans of a Rage demon to her right and spun to shoot a blast of arrows toward it. The ground beneath her gave out as a Terror demon knocked her to the ground and slashed with its deadly claws. Shielding herself with her left arm, she drew a dagger, plunging it into the breast of the demon pinning her. Looking around desperately at the mass of demons surrounding her, she clenched her eyes shut and focused as hard as she could on the electric energy she felt building within her.

A blast of lightning erupted from her, clearing the demons within a twenty-foot radius and send her crashing through the air again. Forcing herself back up to her feet, she made a break for the outskirts of Kirkwall once more. She could make out faces now; terrified faces of men, women, and children of all races gazed back past her and toward the encroaching mass of demons. Even if she could reach Varric, the hoard of demons following her would slaughter anyone they encountered before she would be able to perform the ritual to protect the city.

“GO!” she cried. “Retreat! Find cover!” She desperately searched for anything that could help protect them against what was coming. People began running through the streets, racing toward Hightown. Nara slowed as she watched them go.

She would not reach Varric in time, but maybe she could buy these people more time to find safety. Her chest was on fire and pain from her shoulder shot through her, but she clenched her jaw and turned, resigned, back toward the demons. Some of them wandered aimlessly, searching, but the ones nearest her seemed to sense her vitality and raced toward her. Slowing the frontrunner with an arrow to the shoulder, she sidestepped and released another arrow into its breast. As the demons drew nearer, she stowed her bow on her back and drew her daggers, slicing a path through ten, twenty… their numbers seemed endless.

She drew arrow after arrow as demons fell and more took their place. She mustered her focus once more and blasted a hole through the crowd as a Pride demon stepped forward, laughing menacingly.

“Oh, fuck,” she cursed and somersaulted through the air to dodge its initial attack. Pain from her injured shoulder shot through her like lightning and she cried out, taking a second too long to recover. The demon whipped its powerful arm through the air, backhanding Nara and sending her flying. She felt the crunch of several ribs as she landed and struggled back to her feet. Nocking an explosive arrow, she let it fly as she paced sideways gingerly. A weak burst of lightning escaped from her arm as her vision blurred. She was reaching the end of her supply of arrows.

Deciding to save the rest of her quiver, she used her daggers to cut through the Shade demons bearing down on her. Every move she made sent fire screaming through her blood, but she was able to take down a few dozen before the Pride demon caught up with her again. Leaping forward, she retrieved her bow and sent several explosive shots its way. While it was distracted, she shot lightning toward a nearby Rage demon and dodged the attack of another Terror demon, slicing through more Shades as she did.

She felt ice creep over her skin and spun around in search of the Despair demon, stunning it with an arrow just in time. She searched for what was left of her energy and sent a blast of lightning around her just as a Terror demon knocked her off her feet. Its claws ripped across her chest and blood spurted from the deep gashes. As she struggled back to her feet, the Pride demon’s claws pierced her back. She clutched the claws in front of her as the demon lifted her off her feet. Her vision blackened until all she could see were shapes. Struggling at the claws that pierced through her and searching for her weapons, she tried to feel for her bow but found nothing. She felt at her sides for her daggers and came up empty. She even tried to feel for an arrow in her quiver.

She could not feel anything.

She did not feel the wind whipping her face as she flew through the air. She did not feel her spine crack as she landed. She did not feel the sticky, wet blood as it gushed from her wounds. She did not feel the hoard of demons race forth, trampling her where she lay, crushing her under their feet as they raced forward.

All she could feel was overwhelming sorrow in the pit of her stomach. She had not been quick enough. Faces of the people she had failed to protect swam before her. She had failed. She had not reached Varric in time. She had not reached Antiva or Minrathous or Denerim. She had promised she would make sure Bull was safe and now she lay dying. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered mournfully, yet no sound came from her mouth. No one would hear her remorse. She felt the shadow of death looming over her.

_“Wait,”_ she pleaded with death. She was not ready to leave. She fought and she struggled toward the light as her dying body betrayed her.

_Wait for what?_ Death reasoned. _Wait how long? Your path has been bound by death since your first breath. Do you bargain now for more time or do you challenge the inevitable path laid out before you?_

Darkness overcame her before she was able to answer. She suddenly felt light, as if she was floating.

_This is how it feels to die,_ she thought. Numb, weightless, full of regret.

Her last conscious thought was for Solas. She remembered the wolf, the elf, the man.

She had not been able to save him either.

_I’m sorry,_ she whispered as she succumbed into nothing.

**End of Part I**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I've been writing and planning this fic, it has seemed fitting to divide it into three parts. This marks the end of Part I and I am going to take a short break from publishing so I can refine what I have planned for Part II.   
I am so thankful to everyone who has read up until this point! Here's what to expect in Part II:  
The Inquisition was formed to answer questions no one else dared to ask. To find answers where mystery and hopelessness seemed the only path. Who will now lead the world to find truth in a time of uncertainty? Where paths are divided, truth is not absolute, and death awaits around every corner, is there still a path of love and light?


End file.
